Harry Potter and the Aftermath
by LarissaForrest
Summary: Harry Potter thought life would get simple after the war, but he could not have been more wrong. Follows our hero as he wades through court trials, his final year at Hogwarts, and a struggling Ministry trying to regain control - all while trying to come to grips with new house guests, his deteriorating relationship status and re-awakened sex drive. Compliant until epilogue.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

-HP-

It was a week before his 18th birthday, and Harry was feeling out of sorts. He supposed it was only natural, given the train-wreck that was his supposed final year at Hogwarts, but this felt different. Problem was, Harry didn't want to think about it too deeply, because he was fairly sure that his sense of disquiet was linked to that fact that this was the first summer he _hadn't_ gone to the Dursley's.

This was unsettling, to say the least. It wasn't that he _missed_ them – that notion was ludicrous. It was more a sense of displacement, homelessness. Aside from Number 4, Privet Drive, the only place he ever called home was now a smouldering pile of rubble.

Well, the latest reports suggested it was no longer smouldering, which he supposed was a good thing. Not that he'd know, being currently under house arrest at Grimmauld Place. Harry felt another uncharitable surge of rage as he thought of Ron and Hermione and his other friends, all of whom were currently camping around the outskirts of Hogwarts and helping to restore the castle to something approaching its former glory.

Although, if he tried to think back to whose fault it really was, he supposed the blame lay squarely with Kingsley. The newly appointed Minister of Magic was taking a "personal interest" in him, which in reality meant inserting himself into Harry's affairs and ordering him about like an unwanted father figure.

Harry checked his watch – the same battered hand-me-down from Dudley that he'd worn for years – and saw that it was nearly 10 o'clock. He'd promised Arthur to meet him outside Grimmauld place at 10, so they could apparate to the Ministry. He'd gotten his license soon after the battle, but it was still considered unsafe for him to be seen about town by himself.

Grabbing his wand and rucksack, Harry bounded downstairs – being careful not to wake the banshee portrait of Sirius' mother on his way down. The house was looking marginally better than it had, thanks to a few visits from Mrs. Weasley.

"Oh, ello Harry. Right on time." Arthur was already waiting outside the door when he opened it. They always showed up early, rather than risk having him stand outside by himself for too long. Amusingly, they all still thought they were being subtle about it. Harry sighed a long suffering sigh, trying to shake off the 'woe-is-me' funk he'd settled into.

"Hello Arthur. All alright?" Harry engaged conversation as they made their way down the street and outside the anti-apparition zone.

"Brilliant. Just brilliant. Been a busy week at the Ministry."

"Busier than usual? What's been going on?" Harry sounded like a starving man begging for food, but the truth was he was that desperate for news. Either the Wizarding World had become exceptionally dull since the battle, or he was being blatantly lied to. He had a distinct feeling it was the latter.

"Oh you know, lots of bureaucracy, lots of vacancies still to fill. It's all paperwork really." Harry bit down the scathing response he'd been itching to make all summer.

"And the remaining Death Eaters?" Harry was fishing for gossip now. Arthurs face twitched.

"They're still out there Harry. We pick up one, maybe two every other week. But it's slow going. They're slippery little weasels."

"I can h…."

"Harry." Arthur interrupted, and Harry fought down the spark of frustration. "You know you're in danger out there. We can't risk you."

 _Of course you can risk me. I'm dispensable now remember? I've done my job._ Harry thought bitterly, knowing he was being childish.

"I know, I know." Harry waved the conversation away as they slowed to halt. "Shall we then?" They were going to be late to the hearing if they dallied any longer, and he had decided he really wasn't enjoying the conversation.

"Yes, yes. How about you lead us this time – I'll side along." Arthur said this like he was doing Harry a favour. Throwing him a bone. _If I let the boy apparate us then he'll feel useful, involved._

"Sure." Harry gritted out a smile, holding out his arm. Feeling the weight of Arthur's grip on him, Harry flicked his wand while holding the mental picture of the Ministry atrium in his mind. He fought the familiar queasiness as the world seemed to constrict around him, instead holding his wand steady and keeping the image clear.

A few painful, tube sucking moments later and they were standing before the reconstructed fountain – now depicting a wizened version of Dumbledore that Harry personally thought looked a bit fat and dopey. Harry gave yet another world weary sigh. _Here we go again._

 _-HP-_

The trials had been going on for weeks. When he had first been told about them by Kingsley, Harry had chucked what he now, in hindsight, admitted as a temper tantrum.

The Ministry had been reduced to a motley collection of rapidly promoted juniors, new faces, and only a handful of veterans that had managed to survive unblemished. Predictably, this left a lot of open vacancies, and a lot of unanswered questions about what happened when Voldemort had taken control. Distrust was rife, and that was before you counted the Death Eaters who had been captured and were now trying to worm their way out of punishment.

So Kinglsey had dragged Harry into the mess. Harry personally thought it was more to do with a PR tactic than a genuine interest in what he had to say, which was why he had resisted to begin with. Particularly when the alternative was going to Hogwarts with Ron and Hermione.

It had taken one trial to change his mind, and Harry knew why Kingsley had done it. Dolores Umbridge, the smarmy little cow, had almost escaped punishment if it hadn't been for Harry's testimony. It was no secret how little regard Harry and the general Hogwarts population had for the toad-like ex-Professor.

Since Dolores, Harry had suffered a further 12 trials that contained a mix of obvious Death Eaters, possible Death Eaters, weak men who had sold their souls to keep their jobs in the Ministry but weren't actually Death Eaters, and "the rest". Harry didn't always testify – but he found he could often validate a lot of their statements based on what he knew of Voldemort.

"Who have we got today then?" Harry asked as they bustled into a lift with two other Ministry employees. Arthur eyed them warily, and waited till they exited on Level 5 (Department of Reparations and Reconstruction – newly created following the war) before answering.

"Well, we've got three lined up for today – seemed only natural we try them together." Arthur was being deliberately vague, and Harry was not one bit fooled.

"Three all at once? That's a bit strange. Unless they're fam…" Harry stopped abruptly as an unsettling thought crossed his mind. Arthur gave him an apologetic grin. "Surely you don't mean…"

"Yes, I do."

"But they're…"

"They're what Harry? Guilty?"

"…a little too close to home." He finished lamely. Harry recalled the events that took place in their 5th year, not far from where they were walking now, and felt his blood sizzle under his skin. _Too close indeed._

"Harry. If you can't be objective in there today, you'll be removed from the Wizengamot." Harry scowled darkly but stayed quiet. He suddenly felt oddly clammy, as if he were excited and frightened all at once. He simply could not, would not, let himself get emotional today.

"Okay, okay. I'll be objective." Arthur gave him a genuine smile, and Harry was temporarily cheered. The older man clasped him on the shoulder warmly, using the gesture to also halt Harry's progress down the corridor.

"We're here." Arthur pointed at a wooden door, identical to the others that lined the corridor. They changed the location of the trial every time. When Harry questioned this he was told it was to "keep 'em guessing." Although who exactly "them" referred to was never explained.

"Right. Thanks Arthur. See you at 5?"

"I'll be right here waiting for you." The Weasley patriarch smiled another warm smile, and Harry temporarily forgot what was on the other side of the door.

The feeling didn't last long. As the iron hinges groaned shut behind him, Harry was distinctly aware of several pairs of eyes following him as he strode into the room and took his customary seat on the right of Kingsley. Again, Harry tried not to think too hard about what image the Minister was trying to project by having The Chosen one at his right hand side.

Clearly, Harry was having post-war trust issues.

-HP-

"Good morning ladies and gentleman. Thanks again for your time today. Bring forth the first defendant." Kingsley was never one for pleasantries.

The double doors at the back of the room opened, and two guards entered escorting Narcissa Malfoy. _Well, start with an easy one at least._ Mused Harry darkly as she took her seat in the centre.

She had clearly pulled herself together for the trial. In the photos of her following the battle, she looked tired, drawn and pale – especially next to her equally decrepit looking husband. But alone, she almost seemed stronger, healthier. Not for the first time Harry wondered what the relationship between Lucius and Narcissa was really like.

"Narcissa Black Malfoy. You have been brought before the Wizengamot to stand trial for your actions during the Second War." Harry held back a snort at the term. "Do you understand the seriousness of the allegations brought before you?"

"I do." She said, firmly. Harry felt a begrudging respect for how calm she appeared.

"Very well. Let us bring forth the first witness."

The witnesses were few, and wobbly at best. They were clearly trying to throw as much crap at her as they could, hoping something would stick. The worst they seemed to be able to pin on her was _witnessing_ crimes and not doing anything about it. Macnair, who they'd managed to manipulate into ragging on his fellow Death Eaters, told a slightly more colourful story, involving Narcissa opening up her home and hosting Voldemort for several weeks. It was nothing Harry didn't already know.

"Thank you Macnair." Kingsley could not hide the disdain in his voice. "You may step down. I now call our final witness, Harry Potter." Harry swore loudly and colourfully inside his head, but to everyone present he appeared to calmly get out of his chair and walk to the witness stand.

"Harry Potter, do you agree to be bound by the truth spell cast on this chair, and do you swear that you have taken no magical potions or remedies that would make you immune to the effects of the spell?"

"I do." Harry said calmly, a storm inside. He had never bothered to explain to Kinglsey that, in a very similar way to the Imperious Curse, Harry could theoretically throw off the truth spell. It just wasn't worth the heart ache.

"Very well Harry. Now, during the period of the Second War, did you have any direct contact with the defendant?"

"I did." Harry was used to the cat and mouse game. He had tried to be a smart arse the first time and was duly punished for it afterwards with some stern words from Kingsley. Now he just played the game like a good little soldier.

"Can you briefly describe these interactions for the Wizengamot?"

Harry took a deep, drawn out breath.

"I met her twice. Once was at Malfoy Manor. We were captured by Fenrir Greyback and a few other Death Eaters and taken to the Manor. Fenrir suspected I might be, you know, who I am – so he took us to the Manor to be identified."

"Can you please clarify for the Wizengamot who you meant by 'us'?". _Pompous arse._ Harry muttered under his breath.

"Ron, Hermione and myself. Hermione had cast a transfiguration spell on me – I forget which one - so that my face blew up and wasn't immediately recognizable." Kingsley nodded for Harry to continue. "So we were taken there, and Narcissa and M…Draco were there. Fenrir asked Draco if he recognised me and… and he said he didn't. Narcissa just stood there, she didn't say anything. She didn't do anything. They didn't think to ask her, although I'm sure they both recognised me."

"Speculation." Someone shouted from the crowd, but Harry ignored it. He had learnt the hard way this was _not_ like the TV court dramas he used to watch in the early hours of the morning at the Dursleys.

"We – Ron and I that is - were locked up downstairs by Fenrir, but Dobby appeared…"

"Can you clarify for the court…"

"He's a house elf." Harry interrupted, giving Kingsley a sheepish smile at the obvious interruption. "He used to be Mr. Malfoys, but he was freed, and now works at Hogwarts. He is a friend of mine, and he had been sent to help us by Aberforth Dumbledore." A few whispered mutterings from the crowd broke Harry's concentration. This part of his tale they had not yet heard.

"Dobby apparated us out of the cell we were locked in. But we had to go up to get Hermione, she was being tortured by Bellatrix." Not for the first time, Harry was supremely grateful that Molly had done away with the bitch. He would definitely have had to excuse himself from THAT trial.

"I scuffled with Draco, took his wand. Again, Narcissa was in the room but did nothing." Harry felt like perhaps he was trying a little too hard to clear her name. "Dobby got us out of there in the nick of time, but not before giving up his own life." Pain and regret curled around his heart at the thought of the elf, but he was so used to the feeling over the summer that it felt almost comforting.

"Very well. And the other time?" Harry had already sat down and given Kingsley a blow by blow of his last year weeks ago, so he wasn't surprised that he was trying to move the story along to get to the good bits.

"The second time, was when I walked into the clearing the last night of the battle." The silence was deafening in the courtroom, and Harry felt a little guilty thrill at still being able to hold an audience captive, even if his tale was a little morbid. _So, this one time, I died._ He had thought he'd hate talking about it, but truthfully this was one of the least painful memories. Now any mention of Snape, or Lupin, or the others that had died, and he closed up like a clam.

"I, well as you know I had to confront Voldemort. The whole horcrux thing and all that." He was being purposefully flippant – it was the only form of rebellion left to him. It was a petty revenge, as everyone in the room knew the story. Fucking Kingsley couldn't keep his mouth shut. "So Voldemort aimed the Killing Curse at me, and I was knocked out." A small white lie, but it had saved a lot of explaining. "When I came to, I was still in the clearing. He had clearly been knocked out by the same attack – because of the connection we had. He was concerned I wasn't dead, so he sent Narcissa to check. She walked across the clearing, and knelt beside me. He, Voldemort, asked her if I was dead. She checked my pulse, she knew I was alive. She asked me – asked me about her son. I told her he was still alive, which was true. I had run into him inside the castle." _Ha, run into him. Wait till his trial._ It took Harry a few seconds to realise that Malfoy's trial was in all likelihood coming up next, and it made him feel queasy. "She stood up, and told Voldemort I was dead. It was a lie. She protected me to save her son, but either way it was a selfless act. Whatever this woman has done, she's not a criminal." More silence.

"Very well Harry. Is there anything else you'd like to say on behalf of the defendant?"

"No, I… I think that's it." Harry faltered, wandering if he'd said enough. _Don't send this woman to Azkaban you heartless bastards._ He thought viciously, stepping down from the dais. He'd done all he could.

"Very well, let's take the vote." The process was efficient, if a little barbaric. Harry stood with most of the other members of the Wizengamot when Kingsley called "not-guilty", and sure enough she was saved from a prison sentence. It wasn't a complete white card, of course – Kingsley handed down his usual sentence for those affiliated, but not actively involved in the Death Eaters. Forbidden from taking Ministry jobs, forced to report to a parole wizard once a month and to report on their financial undertakings once a year – it was considered harsh but necessary. Harry wasn't so sure.

After Narciassa's trial the Wizengamot broke for lunch. Harry headed out of the trial room as quickly as he could, avoiding eye contact as he walked back to the lift and ascended to the Atrium. He had made the mistake of lingering the first few times and being stuck in boring political conversations with Ministry officials, or fending off advances from young witches who wanted his autograph.

Seated next to the dopey looking Dumbledore statue, Harry tore through the pumpkin pastie he had bought as he churned through his thoughts. In a way he was glad Narcissa had gotten off lightly. He could not truthfully recall any moment where she had acted savagely or criminally. It seemed, in the end, that all she wanted was to protect her son.

Not for the first time, Harry reflected on how much a mother's love had defined his destiny, despite the fact that he'd never had one. His own mother had died protecting him, and in that act protected him for decades after. And Narcissa, in her small way, had saved them all. Harry fully believed, as he never had while Dumbledore was alive, that love like that truly was its own source of magic.

"Goodness Gracious Harry, if you don't slow down you'll give yourself a stomach ache." It was Slughorn, of all people, and it was a testament to how much he missed the castle that he was glad to see the potions professor. He held off taking another ravenous bite of his sandwich.

"Hello Professor. What's brought you to the Ministry?"

"Oh, you know, a bit of this, a bit of that." The pleasure at seeing the professor withered instantly with the obviously evasive comment. _So. You're in on this too are you?_

"Going back into retirement then, now that you're out of a job?" Harry said, somewhat savagely.

"Ah, well… yes I suppose I am." He stuttered out, looking shifty.

"Right then. Well, I better go then. I'm running late." With a wave as awkward as his comment, Harry sprinted away to the lifts. As he headed back to the trial room, he thought back on everything he'd heard, or not heard, over the summer. Something was definitely going on, something he was being kept out of the loop on.

-HP-

"Bring in the next defendant." Kingsley was all business today. It turned out to be Lucius next in line, which Harry found odd. He was sure they'd save the cream of the crop till last. The man strode in looking like he was at a banquet in his honour, straight backed and still clutching his familiar skull-topped cane. His eyes though, looked as dead as they had in the papers.

Malfoy seniors' trial was long, but entirely one sided. Unlike his wife, the accusations thrown at him stuck like glue, and after the first few testimonies he was covered in it. Most of it was new to Harry, as it occurred during the time he was searching for Horcruxes and was out of touch with the Wizarding World.

Halfway through Dwayne Forthwrights testimony – an employee of the Ministry who had been cursed by Lucius - the clock on the wall behind Harry chimed loudly. It was 5 o'clock, and the day was done. Kingsley stood, and announced that they would break for the day, and continue the trial tomorrow.

As they escorted Lucius out, Harry risked glancing in his direction. For a brief moment, their eyes met, and Harry saw straight through into the man's soul. The hatred there was so over-powering it made him ill, and he was forced to look away. Harry had expected him to make threats, protest, offer to testify against his comrades –anything other than the chilling calmness that seemed to have gathered around both husband and wife.

Still rattled by Malfoy Seniors' demeanour, and wondering what it meant, Harry let himself be steered by the crowd towards the exit. Sure enough, Arthur was there waiting for him.

-HP-

That night, Harry couldn't sleep. His mind's eye was filled with gruesome scenes of the Malfoy's being tortured by dementors, of Lucius cackling maniacally as he shot curses at Sirius, of blinding green flashes. He woke in a familiar cold sweat, unrested and unsettled, to the familiar tapping on the window that signalled the arrival of the Daily Prophet.

The owl swooped in, dropping the paper neatly at Harry's feet, before swooping out again. After nearly being pecked to death by an owl earlier in the summer because he couldn't find a knut, Harry had bought a subscription in advance so that he didn't have to keep paying.

Harry was just about to close the window when what looked like a furry brown cannonball shot through the opening, hitting him squarely in the stomach. Harry dropped to this knees, fighting the nausea. It was, obviously, Pidwigdeon, and he looked like someone had fed him Pepper Up before sending him on a delivery.

"Calm down you stupid bird." Harry growled, wrestling with the letter it was clutching in its beak. The bird let go rather suddenly, causing Harry to fall back and slam his head into the wooden floor boards. It seemed owl post was something of a dangerous past time these days.

Clutching his sore head, Harry ripped open the letter one handed as Ron's owl soared away, almost missing the window on its way out.

 _Dear Harry,_

 _How are you going? We've missed you so much. It's so unfair you haven't been allowed to come visit us – the atmosphere here is just amazing. Some of the sixth year students (well seventh years now, I suppose) have showed up too, and we're making real progress. The entrance and dining hall are both up, although the enchanted ceiling hasn't been fixed yet. Flitwick's tried a couple of charms but he hasn't got it quite right yet. It still seems to hail sporadically, which isn't ideal for the students who are camped in the hall._

 _You'll never believe it – we're staying in the dungeons. Seems they got off with limited damage (no surprises there) so they were quick to restore. Ron swears he's sleeping in Malfoy's bed, but I've told him to just get over it. I mean honestly, after everything we've been through, you'd think he'd learn a bit of tolerance._

Harry smiled to himself, secretly agreeing with Ron. Tolerance or not, the idea of sleeping in a bed previously occupied by a Slytherin was still gross.

 _Gryffindor tower is still a bit of a mess. It got hit pretty hard. McGonagall thinks we'll be able to re-open come September 1_ _st_ _, and we'll just have to make do with whatever classrooms and dormitories are available. No word yet on what they'll do with us – the eighth years or whatever they're calling us. I hope we'll be able to attend – how are we expected to find jobs without NEWTS?_

Another smile – of course Hermione would be worrying about that. Like she, or Ron for that matter, would ever have trouble with employment. They were almost as famous as he was.

 _How are the trials going? It must be simply awful. But you're doing the right thing Harry, do try to remember that. I know you hate me saying this, but they need you. You're still a symbol of hope, and everything's still up in the air. There's been a bit of disquiet even here, when the Ministry comes to visit. They want control over every little detail – like they're afraid of losing it again. McGonagall actually swore at one of them the other day. Ron found it hilarious, but it was pretty scary._

 _Have you heard from Andromeda yet? How is Teddy? Send my love._

 _See you real soon._

 _Hermione and Ron_

He hadn't received separate letters from them all summer. It was only natural, now that they were a couple, he supposed. _Be happy for them Harry, come on._ In some ways he was grateful that they were together during this 'honeymoon' period, and he was at Grimmauld. In his volatile, self-deprecating state he's probably ended up saying some he regretted. Like what happened with Ginny.

Another surge of emotion shot through him as he remembered the last time they spoke. It had started off slightly awkward, as he tried to babble his way through, but by the end it was nothing short of a train wreck.

She had expected them to settle into domestic bliss the day after, all while Harry was still coming to grips with his post-apocalypse, Voldemort-free existence. But "not right now" was apparently not the answer she wanted. He remembered shouts of "I'm not going wait around forever" that rapidly descended into "Fuck you Harry", by which point he'd just sort of glazed over and let her at it.

Hermione, quite unhelpfully, told him afterwards he'd handled it badly. Which was both obvious, and beside the point. Ginny would never have been thrilled at the news, but at least this way she could cling to her self-righteous anger rather than pine over him, as she apparently did last year.

Tucking the letter into his bedside drawer with the rest of them, Harry reached grimly for the Daily Prophet. Since the first, post war edition the wizarding newspaper had descended rapidly into inane, tabloid babble. Narcissa was predictably on the cover, under a small story titled "Potter testimony frees Mrs. Malfoy, husband's trial continues" which only served to re-inforce his belief that he was PR fodder. But the largest real estate on the front page was taken up by a picture of Celestina Warbeck, who had performed at a charity concert last night to raise funds for the reconstruction of Hogwarts.

There was no news of the Death Eaters at large, no more obituaries for the fallen (they had lasted for weeks, especially poor Lupin who was labelled the 'sexiest member of the Order' by Witch Weekly – something which Harry was sure Sirius was still cursing him for.)

After convincing himself there was nothing of interest in the newspaper, Harry threw it into his garbage bin and finally got out of bed. He had a long day ahead of him, and he desperately needed a shower to wash away the cold sweat that still clung to him from his nightmares.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

-HP-

"Bring forth the defendant." Kingsley sounded like a broken record most days. Lucius strode in looking much the same as yesterday, if a little more ragged around the eyes. He looked oddly triumphant, which possibly had something to do with his finding out about his wife's sentence. For all the faults the family had, Harry envied them their loyalty.

It was another long day. The witnesses for Lucius' trial continued well past lunchtime, and it was 3 o'clock before Harry was even called to the stand. He could feel molten grey eyes on him as he took the witness chair and took the oath, but forced himself not to look in their direction.

"So Harry." Kingsley was positively beaming. Clearly he knew Harry would be the final nail in the coffin. "Tell us, did you have any contact with the defendant during the Second War?" The 'Second War', as it was now formally called, officially began the night Voldemort rose from the dead in Harry's fourth year. Which essentially meant he'd be on the stand for a while.

And he was. He talked for over an hour, and it was exhausting and liberating at the same time. He dredged up painful, dark memories that he had tucked away into the furthest corners of his brain, but somehow telling this nameless, faceless crowd was easier than it had ever been with Dumbledore.

"The last time I saw Lucius, was at the final battle at Hogwarts, but I had no direct contact with him. I saw him, next to Voldemort, but I heard he slipped out before the real fighting began."

"Speculation." Harry controlled the growl in his throat, forcing himself to stay quiet.

"Thank you Harry. Have you anything else to say regarding the defendant and his actions?"

"Er… no. No that's it." Kingsley nodded.

"Very well. Let's…"

"Wait!" It was Lucius, and his interruption was clearly unexpected as Kingsley took several seconds to react.

"Yes, Mr Malfoy?"

"I have the right, to speak on my behalf." Lucius said, as confident as his wife had been. The Minister of Magic looked a little put out, clearly unable to think of a reason to not let the man speak. Defendants were obviously allowed to make a statement, but few did, as the word of an alleged Death Eater was worth less than the paper it was written on these days.

"Very well. You may speak - you have 15 minutes." Kingsley said wearily. Lucius gave him a look that could freeze ice.

"I will only need 5." He sneered, before turning to face Harry. There was no doubt who this last ditch effort was aimed at. "Potter. I know you're not as stupid as you look. The evidence against me is… overwhelming. I will not plead for my life, as Malfoys do not beg. But there is no shame in pleading for the life of my son." Harry felt his stomach drop as he realised where this was going. "I know your insufferable Gryffindor heritage will force you to tell the truth at my son's trial, but I swear to you if you utter one word of a lie, if you embellish one insignificant detail that ends up putting him away, I will make you regret it. Do not let your prejudices blind you from the truth of what is going on here, of what the Ministry is trying to do. They are trying to regain control, order – they are handpicking who gets to be free, and who goes behind bars. Have you ever asked yourself who gave them that right?"

"That's enough!" Kingsley boomed, cutting Malfoy off before he said any more. Harry tried to not let the queasiness he suddenly felt show on his face. That was certainly not what he'd expected Lucius to say, but it hit a little too close to where his thoughts had been over the last couple of weeks. And Kingsley, judging by the vein throbbing at his neck, probably thought so too.

"What are you so afraid of Kingsley?" Lucius sneered, so quietly it was almost impossible to hear. But Harry heard it.

Later, after Lucius had been marched away (the vote was a unanimous guilty excepting Harry, who had abstained from voting) he could not shake those final words out from his mind.

-HP-

Harry ate at the Weasley's that night – although it was really just Molly and Arthur. All the Weasley children were out, having either moved out permanently (Bill, Charlie, Percy) or temporarily to rebuild Hogwarts (Ron, George, Ginny). The death of Fred had hit them all hard, but it had improved since the funeral. Molly didn't cry every time she saw Harry any more, and George had apparently cracked a joke last week according to Ron.

"Everything go all right today then Harry?" Molly said pleasantly, bustling around the kitchen as she prepared their dinner (beef stew and potatoes).

"I suppose." Harry tried not to sound too gloomy. "Mr. Malfoy was sent to jail." Molly looked up from the pot she was stirring, giving Harry one of her 'concerned mother' stares.

"You sound unhappy about that dear. Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, yeah I'm good. It was just, he was just… a bit unsettling. He said some things about the Ministry at the end that were a bit…."

"Too close to home?" Molly finished, surprising Harry once more with her intuition.

"Well, yeah actually."

"That doesn't surprise me. A lot of the Death Eaters, before You Know Who first rose to power, they were a bit disgruntled with the Ministry at the time. A lot of them used it as a defence in their trials after the first downfall." Harry perked up, relieved he was finally getting some information, even if it did seem a bit left field.

"Why?"

"Well, after the Grindelwald incident, the Ministry got a bit freaked out you see. This was before my time mind you, but my mother used to tell me stories. They forbid all sorts of magic, even grey magic, afraid that people dabbling in it would wind up going dark. We lost a lot of knowledge, according to mother. It was during that time a lot of the really serious prejudices against dark creatures started. Werewolves, vampires – forced to be registered and tracked all the time. Fear does strange things to people Harry."

"Don't I know it." Harry said. It surprised him that he'd never heard this before, but then he'd never really asked many questions about what had happened prior to Voldemort's downfall. And he'd definitely never asked many questions about Grindelwald's rise to power, despite the eerie similarities.

"It's not an excuse though, for what they did." Harry continued. "The Ministry can be painful sometimes but you can't… you can't just stage a violent coup and hope for the best. Especially when it's led by someone as insane as Voldemort was." Molly winced, as she always did, at the name. Old habits die hard in the Wizarding World it seemed.

"Well no, of course not. But they were hard times Harry. It was hard to know who to trust. And we all lost friends. I knew a vampire, growing up – he was the sweetest man you'd ever meet. Excepting Arthur of course." She said, blushing prettily. "He and his family – he was vampire by birth you see – well they were taken one day. Never heard from them again."

"What? Why would Voldemort kidnap vampires? I thought…"

"Oh no Harry. It wasn't… wasn't You Know Who. It was the Ministry. Two unspeakables showed up, broad daylight. Took them away on brooms for some reason." Harry's mind absorbed the shock of this news, trying to piece it together into his view of the Wizarding World.

"But then, of course the vampires went over to Voldemorts side – and all the other dark creatures."

"Well, yes it was one of the reasons." Molly said thoughtfully, if a bit reluctantly. "Voldemort still saw impure creatures – not pure blood Wizards that is – as inferior. But they still had magic in their veins, so for that reason he saw them as… well… worthy I suppose. Worthy of some rights, if not all."

"And the Ministry didn't?"

"Not at the time. Things got better, slowly. New blood came up through the Ministry. But the prejudices remained. Look at what happened to Lupin." Molly's voice caught on his name, and Harry felt this chest tighten painfully. _Don't cry, don't cry. You were done with the emotional crap remember?_

"Right. I guess I thought it had always been like that." Harry said slowly, fighting the prickling behind his eyes.

"Sadly not. For centuries before, sure, but the 20s was a huge time for creature rights. And then it all came undone." Molly sighed, turning back to the pot. "Oh dear, I think I've overcooked this. Be a dear and hand me the bowls will you?" Harry got up to help, and let the conversation fall away. He had plenty to think about.

Later that night in bed, Harry was unsurprised that he couldn't sleep. He kept thinking about the trials, and the outcomes. Whether they were predetermined or not. About Lucius' warning earlier that day, and what Draco's trial would be like tomorrow. Harry was a fool to think he'd sleep easy after Voldemort. His life was cursed with the worst sort of bad luck.

-HP-

Harry could actually feel the sweat dripping down his forehead and it was mortifying. Sitting in the courtroom, waiting for the remaining Wizengamot members to take their seat, he could not understand why he was so on edge. But that wasn't true, not really – he was stressed because he wasn't ready to face what was about to happen. Narcissa, she had been easy. An open and shut case, her record almost white it was so clean. Lucius had been easy too. His record was black as his shitty soul.

But holy hell, Draco was a complex shade of grey.

"Thanks again for joining us. I appreciate your time, I know these trials have gone on longer than expected. We expect to wrap up today, so you can all get back to your day jobs!" Kingsley said the last line like it was a hilarious joke, and predictably the members of the Wizengamot laughed dutifully. Harry plastered an increasingly fake smile on his face. "Bring forward the defendant."

Draco Malfoy looked more like his mother than Harry could ever recall at Hogwarts. He was pale, and far too thin of course, like they all were – but also oddly composed. It was not the air of self-important righteousness that his father wore which clung to him now, but the effortless grace that Narcissa perfected.

"Draco Malfoy, you are on trial for actions committed during the period known as the Second War. Do you understand the seriousness of the allegations brought before you?" Kingsley boomed once Malfoy was seated.

"Yes." Draco said coolly. It was borderline indolent, and Harry couldn't help but compare the calm of the boy before him to the spineless weasel he knew. To all appearances, it looked like he had accepted his fate.

To everyone's surprise but Kingsley, first up as a witness was Narcissa. Someone had obviously bribed someone somewhere to get her up first.

"Narcissa, given your prejudice to this case you are to speak only of events which you personally are the only sole witness left alive to testify. Can you please relate to the Wizengamot the events you described to me, which occurred two years ago?"

"Yes, yes I can. Lucius…" Her voice wavered briefly, less confident than for her own trial. "Lucius had just been sent to Azkaban after the attack on the Ministry. The Dark Lord was… less than pleased. He called Draco and myself to his presence. Said he had a special job for my son – I knew it was a trap. He was punishing us for my husbands… disobedience." She said the word slowly, carefully.

"And what was the special job he asked of Draco?"

"Draco was attending Hogwarts at the time. He asked him to… to murder Albus Dumbledore." It was not news by any stretch of the imagination, so Harry for the life of him couldn't understand the collective hush that took hold of the Wizengamot.

"Very well. What happened next?"

"I knew, knew Draco couldn't do it. He's just – he was – just a boy. The Dark Lord had set him up for failure. So I took desperate measures, calling a meeting with Severus Snape." Harry recalled the memories of their meeting from the Potions Masters' pensieve, but as quickly as they came he forced them away. Now was not the time. "Bellatrix, my cousin, was there with us. I asked Severus to perform the Unbreakable Vow, to swear that he would help Draco accomplish this task and, in the likely event Draco couldn't do it, perform the deed himself." More stunned silence, broken only by awkward whispered mutterings.

"Very well. Are there any more events you'd like to relay to the court this morning Mrs. Malfoy?"

"I… I'd just like to say my son is a decent man. He was just a boy, when he did these things."

"Thank you Mrs. Malfoy." Kingsley was almost rude in cutting her off, but it was probably in her best interest. Anything she said would most likely only poison the Wizengamot's opinion of Draco.

As Narcissa was led away, Kingsley called the next witness, Katie Bell. Her testimony was short, and to the point. Having been familiar with the events of the cursed necklace, Harry took the time to study Draco, who had looked thoroughly bored since the trial began - although he'd a least sat up in his chair when his mother was on the stand.

After Katie, Professor Slughorn took the stand. Harry wandered if perhaps this was why he'd been loitering around the Ministry yesterday, but then he'd have no reason to hide it. Everyone knew the Great Harry Potter was attending the trials as a temporary member of the Wizengamot.

To Harry's great delight, McGonagall took the stand next. He felt like a little kid again, desperate to wave and get her to notice him. She was far more reserved on the stand, answering only specific questions directed at her. Harry thought that she was doing it on purpose, as her own form of rebellion, and he secretly marvelled that he hadn't thought of it before.

When they broke for lunch, Harry shuffled out with the others – and was delighted to see McGonagall out in the corridor waiting for him.

"Mr. Potter." She said cordially, ever with the formalities.

"Professor. Good to see you." Harry smiled warmly.

"I thought perhaps you might like the company of an old friend for lunch." Harry tried not to sound too eager as he nodded, leading the way down to the lifts.

"So how are you? How is Hogwarts?"

"Still a mess, I'm afraid." Harry was so grateful she was being honest he was momentarily stunned into silence.

"Is it fixable?" He finally asked.

"Oh, eventually yes. We'll have a castle again. But I'm afraid it won't be the same. So much of the magic in the walls, it was old magic that has been lost to us for centuries."

"I'll be honest with you Professor, I probably won't miss those moving staircases." Harry said with a grin as they exited the lift and walked across the atrium to the food cart.

"I hate to break it to you Potter, but they're the one thing that probably will stay around." McGonagall said with her small, almost imperceptible smile. "And by the way Potter, it's Headmaster now."

"Oh, sorry P… Headmaster." Harry said with chagrin. "I forgot."

"Perfectly understandable. Now, how are you finding these trials?" She sounded exactly like Harry did when he was fishing for information from Arthur. Harry glanced around them, making sure there was no one else around before answering.

"To be honest Professor, something doesn't seem quite right. They seem almost… rehearsed. Kingsley treats the whole thing like…"

"A game?"

"Well, yes. Like it's a chess game and he's, almost, in charge of all the pieces. I know that sounds stupid but…"

"No, actually, it's the most thoughtful thing I've heard in weeks." Harry let out a breath he did not know he'd been holding. "I have had a similar… sense… about the Ministry's involvement in the reconstruction of Hogwarts." She dropped her voice as two Ministry employees walked past them.

They halted their conversation as they each grabbed a sandwich from the food cart, before heading to the fountain where Harry had sat yesterday. With the trickling of water next to them, they could have a relatively private conversation. Harry – ever the cautious one after his final year hunting horcruxes – flicked his wand and cast a quick _muffliato_ just in case.

"P… Headmaster, why would the Ministry want to be involved in the reconstruction of Hogwarts?"

"Well, it's more than just the reconstruction. It's appointing the new Professors, restocking the library. Reviewing the curriculum."

"The curriculum? What was wrong with the curriculum?"

"According to the Ministry…" McGonagall began, and Harry was surprised at the bitterness in her voice. "… the Hogwarts curriculum is unsuitable, uncontrolled and in dire need of review."

"Unsuitable? As in dangerous? This sounds like Umbridge…"

"It's more than that Potter. They want to introduce a new subject called 'Wizarding Law'. Teach all the students about the Ministry and how it works and why laws are so important."

"And you mentioned the library? New appointments?"

"Yes, the Restricted Section has been removed, unsurprisingly. And there will be a number of new faces come September 1st next year, not all of them qualified but all Ministry approved." Harry felt the pit that had been sitting in his stomach all morning grow a little wider. It was worse than he feared. McGonagall continued. "Do you know what they're doing to the defendants on trial who are released?"

"Yeah, the monthly parole meetings, forbidden from employment at the Ministry… stuff like that right?"

"Potter, I have reason to believe they're tracing them."

"Tracing?"

"Magical trace. It effectively tracks their movements, the spells they cast. It is the same trace put on underage witches and wizards."

"But you're not sure?"

"I have… friends, still in the Ministry. Members of the Order I still consider loyal and trustworthy. But no, I cannot say I know with certainty."

"What are we going to do Headmaster?"

"I don't know. If I were you Potter, I would keep my head down and continue to attend the hearings. Be a friend to the Ministry and to Kingsley."

"Headmaster, is Hogwarts definitely re-opening in September?"

"Yes, that it was one issue where the Ministry and I see eye-to-eye. It has never been more important to restart the school and restore some normalcy. But I would trust you to keep that quiet for now, until all the formalities have been dealt with." Harry nodded, pleased to be in the know for once rather than outside of it.

"And, what about us? The 7th years from last year who… missed out." Harry finished lamely, trying not to sound too eager.

"Most likely, although again I trust you to be discrete with this information for now, the 7th years will be given the option to return for their final year. As the battle occurred before students could sit their OWLS or NEWTS, I think most 5th and 7th year students will be repeating their year." Harry couldn't hid is smile. Going back to Hogwarts would definitely help to restore his mood.

"But you will still take on new first years?"

"Yes, I'm afraid we must. The castle will just be a little more crowded for a few years, but it is manageable." A comfortable silence descended, but Harry knew even before checking his watch that he was running late.

"I better go, Headmaster. It was good to see you."

"And you Potter." She said with a weary smile. "Don't forget what we spoke about. Don't mention it to anyone else just yet, and don't put it in any letters either." Harry nodded, knowing she was referring to this correspondence with Hermione and Ron. _Good. Now I know something they don't._

-HP-

He was greeted by numerous disgruntled stares as he made his way to his seat. Avoiding Kingsley's glance, he sat down and waited for Draco to be brought out.

"Bring forth the defendant, and the next witness, Neville Longbottom." Harry sat up immediately, trying not to enjoy the look on Malfoy's face as they paraded Neville past him. Surely this was the most exquisite karma fate could possibly serve up for the blonde Slytherin. The Gryffindor who he had bullied for years now had his very life in the balance.

"Neville, we understand you were at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry last year with the defendant. Can you please describe to the Wizengamot the defendant's behaviour during your last year at Hogwarts."

"S…sure Minister." Poor Neville was too obvious in his attempts at not catching Draco's stare. The Slytherin had his usual aura of calm about him and it was making Harry itch to punch him in the nose. "I… the school was supervised by the Carrows last year. Right from the beginning, they showed favouritism towards the Slytherins. It started off small, extra detentions, deducted house points. But then they called for volunteers for a 'Patrol Squad', and that's when it got really bad. The whole squad was made up of Slytherins, and Malfoy – er Draco that is – was their leader. They patrolled the school at nights, terrorising people after curfew."

"Can you give us a few examples Mr. Longbottom?"

"Yes." He was getting more confident now as he told his story. "We set up a counter-squad you see. Members of the DA…"

"Of the DA?" Kingsley interrupted again.

"Dumbledore's Army. It was a group we started up in fifth year – Harry…" and here Neville gave him a warm smile "he taught us all defence spells in secret. We called ourselves Dumbledore's Army as a bit of a joke, but the DA saved our skins in our final year. We would patrol at night, preventing the Patrol from doing too much damage."

"One night, I was patrolling the second floor corridor when I saw Malfoy and his cronies – er, Crabbe and Goyle that is – surrounding a first year student. They were holding him upside down using a spell, and they were taking turns casting curses on him. Nothing, nothing permanent, but the kid was crying. They were asking him questions about the DA, trying to name names. I called for back-up – we had a system with these enchanted Galleons – and approached them. They sneered at me, told me to go back to my dorm, but I didn't back down. Eventually Dean and Seamus showed up and they let the kid go. He was pretty freaked out."

Harry, who had not yet had the chance to sit down with Neville and hear about the events from last year, felt his skin grow cold. He had imagined their last year had been bad, but he'd never imagined Malfoy's involvement had been so brutal. _Did he do that to protect his parents? Was that about loyalty, or was he just rotten all the way down to the core?_

Neville told a few more anecdotes, similar to the first, before he too stepped down. It was 2 o'clock and, predictably, Harry was called up as the final witness. _Fuck, here we go. Another day, another Malfoy._

As he was sworn in, Harry finally took the chance to look straight at Draco. Their eyes locked, and Harry felt himself begin to sweat again. Seven years of rivalry, of insults and fights and duels, clashed in a single instant. Vaguely he heard himself nod in response to the swearing in, before taking a seat. He was pleased to see that Draco had sat up for his testimony. _Good, be afraid._

2 and a half hours later and Harry's voice was hoarse from talking. How he had more to say about Draco than his father was beyond comprehension, but there it was. He was honest, almost monotonous in his retelling. His voice caught only once, when he reached the moment on the top of the astronomy tower when Dumbledore fell. He made sure the court heard that Draco lowered his wand. _He lowered his wand dammit. The gits a coward. He wouldn't hurt anyone, not for real._

"Thank you Harry. I appreciate your testimony, I know it has not been easy these past few days." Kingsley gave him a smile that almost made Harry feel like he genuinely cared. Harry gave him a tired one in return. "Is there anything else you'd like to say on behalf of the defendant?"

There it was, the moment. It dangled in the air between them, thick as wool, and Harry suddenly felt like he couldn't breathe.

"I… I… think he deserves a second chance." The words were out before Harry could stop them, and he realised they came from somewhere inside him that he was trying to ignore. It was the same part of him that felt the surge of pity for the boy in their 6th year. _Don't look at him, don't look at him._

"Why is that Harry?" Kingsley seemed a little uncomfortable, probably because this turn of conversation was not in his little pre-arranged set of moves. _Check mate Kingsley. You can't control everyone._

"I… I was forced to do a lot of things I'm not proud of over the years. A path was laid out for me that I never really chose. And I think, I think it's not so different for M… Draco. Most of what he's done, was to protect his parents. There were only two chances he had, to do something truly unforgiveable, and he… well he chickened out both times. He lowered his wand, and he didn't rat me out when Fenrir brought me in. I'm not saying he's… good. I'm just saying he needs a second chance." The silence was immense, and it took all of Harry's self-control to not look at Draco.

The words had their effect. The room rippled with whispers and mutters, as people took in what Harry had said. Perhaps it was his ego finally settling in, but he felt that perhaps his voice carried some weight in that room – that in the end it made the difference. He would never know for certain, of course, but the Wizengamot did declare Draco Malfoy not-guilty by one, single vote.

Kingsley was visibly displeased.

-HP-

"Ah, Harry – can I have a word with you?" It was Kinglsey. _Oh Merlin, he sounds just like he did after the first trial when he told me off for that smart arse comment about toads._

"Sure, Minister." Harry heard McGonagall's voice in his head, telling him to behave, as he headed into another adjacent room after Kingsley.

"First of all Harry, I'd just like to say how very proud we all are, of your efforts during these testing times." _Ah, the proverbial 'we'. This isn't going to end well._ "I know it hasn't been easy, especially that last one." Harry knew he was supposed to keep his mouth shout when Kinglsey got in these moods, so he dutifully nodded. "And I know you have a good heart, and we'd all love it if we could declare them all not-guilty and give them a second chance... but some of these men did very bad things. And we must be merciful, yes, but we must also protect the Wizarding Community. We must keep them safe. People expect that of the Ministry, do you understand Harry?" Harry thought he understood rather too well.

"Don't you think, Minister, that people should have more of say in how they're protected?" The look on Kingsley's face made it clear he definitely did NOT think so. Harry immediately regretted saying anything.

"People… people don't always know what's best for them Harry."

"I, I suppose I understand that." Harry said thoughtfully, although he really didn't.

"I knew you'd understand." Kingsley was all smiles again. "Excellent. We only have a few more trials before you're due back at Hogwarts anyway! That must be exciting."

"Er… I hadn't really thought about…"

"But of course you'll be going back. Have to get your NEWTS so you can come join us at the Ministry after all, eh? Just between you and me, there's a spot on the Auror program with your name on it…" Kingsley gave him a conspiratorial wink and nudge. With nothing better to say, Harry just smiled stupidly at him. "Now I better let you go before Arthur worries himself into old age!"

Back outside the courtroom door, Mr. Weasley was clearly fretting. As soon as he spotted Harry his face broke into a relieved grin.

"Ah, Harry. You had me worried there for a moment!"

"Sorry Arthur." Somewhere in the last few months Harry had stopped calling them Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. It no longer seemed appropriate. "K… The Minister just wanted a word."

"Yes, yes of course. Not to worry." Arthur smiled as Kingsley nodded by way of farewell.

"Till next time Harry." He said as he walked away.

"So." Arthur was itching for news. "I heard the barmiest rumour that Malfoy Junior escaped custody thanks to your testimony! Is that true?"

"Well, I don't know if it was my…"

"Nonesense! That's all anyone could talk about. You actually said he deserved a second chance? Blimey Harry, that was awfully big of you."

"Well it just sort of, slipped out." Harry said weakly, trying not to feel like he was justifying himself too much.

That night, Harry lay awake – again – and tried not to think too hard about whether or not he'd done the right thing.


	3. Chapter 3

-A/N—

I felt like this chapter needed a bit of a preface – not only is it long but it also has quite a few plot bunnies hopping about. They're very much breeding I'm afraid, but they do all serve a purpose.

A quick thank you to all who have favourited, followed and reviewed so far – and for sticking with me through the first two chapters which were a teensy bit slow going. Feel free to throw your two cents into the review ring – criticisms or compliments, I am far from precious. I've got a plot arc in mind but would love to hear your thoughts.

Speaking of - I do intend for Harry to have a successful romantic relationship by the end of this but he's not ready for it yet. It will be an amusing journey to get there though. I should point out before anyone gets their hopes up (particularly after this chapter) – it will not be Harry / Draco – not because I mind it, but I just find it difficult to write believably. But the Malfoys will be sticking around, much to Harry's annoyance.

On with the show…

-A/N—

Chapter 3

-HP-

It was the day before his birthday, and Harry's mood had improved considerably. Hermione and Ron were apparating in that evening to spend the weekend with him, and he had just been told there would be no more trials for two weeks. He was planning to ask Kingsley if he could go to Hogwarts for a while, but he hadn't wanted to push his luck too far too soon.

Harry had finished off the week at Grimmauld Place, clearing out the last few remaining mementos of Sirius and his family and getting the spare rooms ready. By 3 o'clock Friday even Harry had to admit the place looked better, if not homely. He had tiny flames burning in all the lamps, which cast a friendly glow on even the darkest corners of the house – and he'd even mastered a little spell that got rid of the dusty old smell (at least temporarily).

There had been one awkward moment, in which he had questioned whether or not to put Hermione and Ron in separate rooms or not. It was definitely not the sort of thing he dared to ask, but he equally feared getting it wrong. In the end, he decided to go for separate rooms. Molly and Arthur dropped round all the time, and he didn't want to be seen as THAT kind of friend – the sort that promoted any untoward behaviour.

Of course, if it had just been up to him he wouldn't have cared. _Someone in this house should get a little action, after all._ He thought a little savagely.

An hour before they were due, Harry was in the kitchen trying to stay out of Kreacher's way as he did all the work. The house elf was making an assortment of delicious pastries for afternoon tea, while simultaneously preparing the ingredients for dinner.

In his first week back at Grimmauld, Harry had tried to set the poor elf free, but the creature had been so distraught Harry just didn't have the heart. It seemed the threat of clothes had straightened out the better part of Kreacher's attitude. Not that Harry wasn't entirely grateful for the help. Of his limited list of marketable skills, it seemed that cooking and general house work were not among them.

Harry was just brewing himself a cup of tea – having given up on his attempts at helping – when the doorbell rang. He braced himself immediately for the onslaught of the portraits wails, but they never came. Immediately, his skin prickled with apprehension. If the portrait approved of whoever was outside that door, it could only mean they were not the sort of person Harry wanted as visitors.

Pulling out his wand, he inched his way down the corridor, knowing that his curiousity was getting the better of him. As his heart sped up and lodged someone near his throat, he tried not to think about the jolt of pleasure that shot through his system and straight to his groin. Merlins above, he was enjoying the adrenalin hit.

When he was about a foot from the door, he muttered a quick spell Arthur had taught him that rendered the door invisible only from his side. At the sight of a smiling Andromeda clutching a tiny bundle of cloth, he sighed with an odd mixture of relief and disappointment. He wasted no time opening the front door.

"Andromeda." He said with a warm smile.

"Hello Harry." She said tiredly. "Sorry to drop by like this unexpectedly."

"No problem at all. You know this place is as much yours as mine." It was true, after all, as Andromeda was related to Sirius – also explaining why the portrait seemed to bear her presence. Harry had wasted no time offering her and young Teddy housing at Grimmauld Place, but she would have none of it. It seemed pride was a curse that afflicted all Blacks, not just his godfather. "Please, come in. I was just brewing a cup of tea."

"Well, I'm afraid this isn't just a social visit." She said this with not a little trepidation, and for the first time her smile faded.

"That's fine, is there something I can do? I can definitely look after T…"

"No, no it's not Teddy." Her nervousness seemed to be escalating at an alarming rate, and Harry was starting to get apprehensive. With a deliberate slowness, she stepped aside, and Harry realised too late she was not alone. Behind her, wearing tattered black robes like they were Wizard haute couture, stood Narcissa and Draco Malfoy.

 _This is not going to end well._ He thought wearily.

-HP-

Ten minutes later, and the five of them were in Harry's kitchen watching a tea kettle boil. It was the single most awkward experience of his life.

Narcissa was sitting opposite him, her back ramrod straight as she clutched her purse. She did not meet this eye. Andromeda was fidgeting, every so often reaching across to tuck in Teddy – who Harry had conjured up a little bassinet for. Draco had his arms crossed, leaning back on his chair and clearly trying to exude an attitude of "I was dragged into this and really don't want to be here."

Harry really wasn't sure if inviting them inside had been his best plan, and he was seriously regretting not asking for their wands, but there was no going back now. Andromeda had yet to go into details, but judging by the state of the Malfoys robes Harry had a feeling he knew why she was here.

The whistling kettle blissfully broke the silence, and gave Harry a useful excuse to get up.

"I'm sorry Harry. I just didn't know what else to do." Andromeda apologised for the fifth time. In the corner, Teddy gurgled happily. Harry envied him something savage.

"So." Harry had finished filling the teapot and sat back down. "What's going on?"

"I…" Andromeda had begun talking, but Narcissa held out her hand in a clear gesture for her to stop.

"It's okay Andromeda. I owe Mr. Potter the explanation." For the first time she turned her piercing blue eyes on Harry, and he was struck again by just how beautiful she really was. Her blonde hair was still exquisite, currently pinned back by an ornate clip that was comically striking next to the state of her robes.

"As you are aware, my husband was sent to Azkaban earlier this week." Harry's guilt must have been visible, because her eyes softened. "I know it's not your fault Mr. Potter. I am not here to seek revenge, or a retrial. You have done more than enough for us – my son and I – that I do no relish being here today. But the Ministry has… not given us a choice." Harry nodded, her story so far consistent with what he believed.

"When I was released from the Ministry, I returned home to find our assets had been seized. Our vaults, our home – every last knut. They were kind enough to allow me to keep the clothes on my back." She added this last comment with such bitterness, that Harry was temporarily grateful it was not directed at him. "I had nowhere to go, so I slept at my sister's place that night. Andromeda was kind enough to let me stay."

"My intention was to return to the Ministry the next day to sort out the situation, at least convince them to release some of our assets so I could fend for myself. When I arrived, I was treated… less than favourably." The venom was back in her voice. "They assumed I was there for my husband – he was on trial that day. It was ludicrous of course. When I was finally able to get a straight answer from the Department, I was informed that funds belonging to convicted Death Eaters are being temporarily seized, until it can be confirmed they were acquired by 'honest' means. As you know, my husband was convicted that day."

She paused at this point, pursuing her lips in what looked to be distaste. "And I have reason to believe, for a substantial sum of our assets, that they were not acquired honestly." It occurred to Harry that the distaste she was feeling was most likely aimed at her husband as well as at the Ministry.

"When Draco was released, I returned to the Ministry. I had thought with a child…" Something that sounded suspiciously like a snort emerged from Draco's lips, but Narcissa powered on. "...with my son, that they would have mercy on us and at least grant me access to my part of the fortune – that is, the dowry that was given to Lucius when we married."

"I do not want to be here Mr. Potter, you must understand. But the Ministry has denied all my pleas, and Andromeda is struggling as it is looking after her grandson. I have tried looking for work, but it seems my husband's name has... a bad reputation."

It was the first time Harry had ever seen her flustered. She was angry – her cheeks flamed with the lightest touch of red, her eyes angry slits still sparkling a brilliant blue. He could not pretend he was not moved by her tale, nor could he deny that her anger at the Ministry was entirely valid.

"What do you need from me Mrs. Malfoy?" It seemed like the only appropriate question to ask.

She smiled the same tired smile. "I need your help Mr. Potter. If it was just me… but it's my son as well. We'll send Andromeda broke and all end up on the streets."

"So it's money? I have some I could…."

"I thought perhaps we could come to an… arrangement of sorts?" Narcissa was leading the conversation somewhere, and Harry was not sure he wanted to follow. _Long is the descent into hell,_ he thought wryly as he motioned for her to elaborate. "I managed a lot of Lucius' affairs, while he was… occupied. I am good with investments, and I can manage a household well. I thought perhaps I could work as your… housekeeper of sorts. It is the only work I can offer, that will let me keep what the Ministry has left of my dignity."

Harry nodded in understanding, waiting for her words – and really the whole odd experience – to finally sink in. But all he felt was an odd sort of conviction, a sense of calm. Of course she'd come here, of course he could help. He had offered something similar to Andromeda and she had turned it down – so he would help Narcissa instead. It would be like helping his godson, albeit indirectly, by helping his family.

A part of him – a small part, mind – couldn't help but think he was making this decision to be just that tiny, weeny little bit rebellious. Here was something at last that was his for the choosing – he could help these people and that would be the end of it. Kingsley be damned. And the look on his face when he found out – well that just the icing on the cake after all.

"Okay, Mrs. Malfoy. I… I accept. I will pay you a reasonable sum to manage my affairs. Heavens knows there's a backlog of assets…well… with everyone who…" Harry found himself unable to finish the sentence. The familiar prickling returned behind his eyes but he shook it away.

"I had thought as much. We will sit down and discuss my role further, of course. But I imagine there are a lot of assets that need shuffling around. Merlin knows you're likely getting a terrible return on your current vault at Gringotts." The look on Harry's face made it clear he had no idea this was even something he was supposed to be considering.

"As to board…" Harry began.

"Andromeda has offered to…" Narcissa went to cut him off but Harry shook his head firmly. The Potters were stubborn too, after all. "No. I offered Andromeda to stay here, knowing her and Teddy were going to be cramped in her place. At least this way I can help her still, even if it is through you. You will stay as long as you need, to get back on your feet."

Harry had so far avoided meeting Draco's eyes, almost afraid of what he'd see. But he took the time now, and was not disappointed in the expression. Draco seemed to be engaged in something of an internal battle. On the one hand was his obvious distaste for Harry and needing to ask favours, in general, from anyone. But on the other – and this side was more subtle, granted – Harry could see the way he looked at his mother. It was the only thing keeping him quiet – the love he bore her, and the need to protect her.

"That is, of course, if you'd like to stay here." He directed the question at Draco on purpose. The blonde cast one weary glance at Narcissa before turning back to Harry. For what must've been the third time in as many days, Harry had to endure the extended silence that seemed to settle between them whenever they locked heads.

"Yes, fine." It was said like he was doing Harry a favour, and it made his skin prickle in anger. "Whatever mother wants." He added, in case it wasn't clear. Harry gave a single, curt nod, directed as Narcissa. He was done playing games with the blonde.

"It's settled then. I expect you to move in whenever is convenient." The words were still tumbling out of his mouth when the doorbell rang, and as the portrait began its habitual howling Harry felt his stomach lurch unpleasantly. There was no way the Gods were going to let him get out of this one unscathed.

-HP-

"But, I don't understand." It was the fourth time she'd said it, and by that point Harry was convinced this was a terrible idea. If Hermione was struggling to wrap her enormous brain around it, then Ron – who was steadily getting more and more purple by the minute – didn't stand a chance.

"They needed help Hermione. What was I supposed to have done?"

"Complain to the Ministry! Their situation is… well it's just horrible. I'm sure if you of all people Harry…"

"And I will definitely try to reason with Kingsley, but for now they're out of money, and Andromeda is out of space. It's only for a little while…"

"A little while?" Ron echoed bleakly, adding utterly no value to the conversation.

"Yes Ron." Harry was trying to be gentle with him but was rapidly losing his cool. "As long as they need. Of course I'll talk to the Ministry…" He turned to face Hermione again. "…But if they don't help, as I expect they won't, then they'll stay here longer. I need someone to look after the place while I'm at Hogwarts anyway."

She let out a long, slow breath that he was sure she'd been holding for a while. Her expression morphed slowly from confused to concerned, and Harry knew exactly what was coming next.

"I just worry about you Harry. You're too trusting." _Ah, of course. A pleasant romp down painful memories lane is exactly what the Doctor ordered._

"Look, whether you trust them or not, at least trust me okay? It'll be fine." The expression morphed again into one of resignation, and it was Harry's turn to exhale.

"Okay, just… you will be careful won't you? Watch your back and all that?"

"Yes, yes of course. I'll have my wand on me all the time and any funny business from Malfoy and he'll go straight back to being a ferret." His voice was deadpan, but the joke was a clear sign that the conversation was over.

"I don't even think you know how to turn him into a ferret." Hermione said sceptically, but he could tell she was amused.

"Well that's what you're around for." Harry grinned, finally at ease. If he could convince Hermione then it would be okay – she could work on Ron in her own time. The second youngest Weasley was currently taking turns to give each of them a good impression of a goldfish, and Harry was not about to go there. Fortunately Hermione broke the ice by leaping across the room and giving Harry a hug – the one he would've gotten if Malfoy hadn't been in the entrance hall when Harry opened the door.

Fortunately Andromeda and the Malfoys had departed fairly quickly to collect their stuff, leaving Harry to battle it out with his friends.

"So, shall I show you to your rooms?" Harry said as Hermione finally let go. "And once you've dropped your stuff off maybe we can sit down for dinner?" It was the latter more than anything that finally broke Ron out of his state of shock, and sure enough the three of them were seated around the table within the hour eating Kreacher's beef stew.

-HP-

"So, Hogwarts." Harry had waited long enough for gossip, and none had been forthcoming over their meal. They were currently in the drawing room – each nursing a small glass of firewhisky that Harry had managed to procure one week on a trip to Diagon Alley.

He'd be damned if he was going to endure his nightmares sober.

"What do you want to know?" Hermione asked, taking a confident sip. Harry was surprised with her tolerance, but he knew he shouldn't be. It would've been just as hard to endure the first few weeks after the war at Hogwarts as it had been at Grimmauld Place alone.

"Well… the reconstruction? The students? And McGonagall told me about the Ministry involvement…"

"McGonagall?" Ron piped up, sitting up from his slump. His tolerance was nowhere near that of this girlfriend, but he did seem to be working his way through the glass much faster.

"We had lunch, only briefly, when she came to testify on behalf of D… Malfoy." Ron either didn't notice the slip up, or chose to ignore it – or a third possibility, he had forgotten entirely about their conversation earlier that evening.

"Ah, right. Figures she'd do that. Yeah she's been a bit ticked off with the Ministry employees. They show up unexpected and snoop around, conduct audits of the reconstruction. They're required to sign off on every room before it gets opened up to students, did you know?" Harry most certainly did not know, but he didn't want to admit that.

"She mentioned something like that." Harry said instead. "So how's the castle? And how is everyone? Neville? Dean? Seamus? Gi…" Harry bit his tongue a split second too late. He took an ambitious swig of his firewhisky to avoid looking at Ron, but could sense the redhead's eyes on him regardless.

"They're good." Hermione – ever the diplomat – ploughed on as if nothing had happened. "Dean's still a bit cut up over Lavender." Her voice broke a little at the name, and Harry's heart settled a little lower in his stomach. It was so easy to forget sometimes, how much they'd lost. "And Seamus… well…he's…"

"Flirting with Ginny." Ron said dully, not looking up from his now empty glass. Clearly the thought did not sit well him. If he was to be honest with himself, it didn't sit well with Harry either. Not enough to write to her and ask for her back, but enough that it made him feel a little queasy. And slightly vengeful towards Seamus.

"Oh, that's… okay." He managed to get out. "Good for them."

"You don't have to be okay with it Harry." Hermione said quietly. He immediately regretted ever thinking of her as diplomatic. Bloody meddling witch.

"Really, it's fine. It's over. We're over."

"I know she still, you know, feels something…" Harry winced at this, taking a final gulp of his firewhisky and emptying the glass.

"Yeah…okay. But I don't. I just can't." He reached for the decanter – a nice looking crystal one that his godfather had used during his brief stay.

"I understand Harry. I just thought you should know." She was back peddling now, but Harry was well past having the deeply invasive conversation about his personal life. "So how are you guys going huh? All sunshine and roses now that you're together?" He said loudly and ever so slightly scathingly. He regretted it immediately but stood his ground, still a little too miffed at her probing.

"We're fine." She said, effectively disarmed from her previous line of conservation. Instead she held out her also empty glass for Harry to refill. He did so obediently, also refilling Ron's but with noticeably less alcohol. The poor redhead was looking decidedly drunk by this point.

The three descended into a comfortable silence at last, and Harry allowed it to settle over him like a warm blanket. He had missed this – and had been secretly quite anxious before their arrival that the two would be couply and everything would be different. But in fact they were the same as they'd always been – well, as much as they could be given what they'd been through.

A loud noise broke the silence, startling Harry and Hermione. But it was just Ron, having finally succumbed to his drunkenness and fallen asleep with a loud snore. Harry smiled at his best friend, recognising the snore from their Hogwarts days as one of a deep sleep. His friend wasn't moving anywhere anytime soon.

"You probably noticed I… I put you in separate rooms. I wasn't sure…" Harry said awkwardly, seizing the moment alone he had with Hermione. He instinctively knew she was the right person to ask.

"Oh. Oh right… yes of course that's perfectly fine…"

"I wasn't sure, you know, what the situation was like at Hogwarts…" Ironically, Harry knew he was now probing into Hermione and Ron's relationship just like she had done before with him, but he couldn't help himself. He was just so utterly curious as to how far they'd gone.

"Oh, right. Well they make us sleep in separate dormitories there too – boys and girls. Besides, I'm not... we're not… it's fine really Harry." She was being evasive – almost awkwardly so – but Harry had nonetheless gotten the answer he wanted. To all appearances it seemed they hadn't gone much further than a few heated snog sessions – as much as he had done with Ginny. This made him feel better somehow, reaffirming that he wasn't that far behind a normal teenage life.

For some reason, that fact remained important to him.

-HP-

The next morning – the day of his birthday – dawned bright and crisp and warm. It was the sort of day that made Harry ache to get back on his broom, even though he'd been expressly forbidden from it. Unlike the semi-rural Weasley home, Grimmauld Place was nestled in a quiet street in suburban London where locals would _definitely_ notice if a brooms rose from the sky sporting a teenage boy.

Shrugging off another bought of self-pity, Harry donned his standard t-shirt and jeans and headed down to the kitchen, trying to ignore the voice in his head that sounded a lot like Ginny which informed him he really, really needed to buy new clothes.

"Morning Harry. Happy Birthday!" Hermione was up, of course, and was already halfway through preparing what looked like the best breakfast Harry had seen in weeks. Kreacher, bless his ridiculous heart, did not seem to understand the concept of a hearty muggle breakfast of bacon and eggs.

"Thanks Hermione. Ron up yet?" He was rewarded with one of 'those' looks from her. "Right, still Ron then. Good to know."

15 minutes later and the two were sitting on either side of the bench nursing mugs of strong coffee and a plate each of steaming bacon and eggs.

"Sleep well?" Hermione asked, breaking a particularly long silence. Harry looked at her, and considered lying yet again, but couldn't bring himself to do it. Not with her.

"Well, no not really. Better than, you know, when it was really bad, but still not great." She nodded in understanding, and he knew he'd made the right call in being honest with her.

"I always slept so well you know?" She said with one of those sad, bitter smiles he saw on almost everyone these days. "Up until last year when we were doing night shifts and I couldn't sleep a whole night anyway. But sometimes, it's like I'm still back in those woods. I wake up in the middle of the night and… and it's like I've missed my shift, or we're being chased, or I'm back at Mal…" She stopped, and Harry could actually see her connect the dots.

"Hermione, just because they were there that night… it doesn't mean… they weren't part of…"

"I know." She said abruptly. "I… I still just associate them with it I guess."

"Hermione…"

"No, it's okay. I understand why you're doing what you're doing. It's the right thing." Harry smiled at her, reaching across to give her hand a friendly squeeze.

"I've been meaning to ask you actually." Hermione said smoothly, shifting the tone of the conversation. "If I could spend some time in the library while I'm here?"

"I'm surprised you need to ask." Harry said with a grin, feeling an odd warmth curl in his chest at how familiar this moment felt. Hermione, studying, Ron, still asleep – it made him feel like perhaps the odd sense of discomfort he had been feeling was just a bit of post wars blues.

"Great. I'll start tomorrow morning then if that's okay. It's been so hard to do research now, what with the Restricted Section gone. "

"Restricted Section? Hermione what could you possibly be researching now that involves those books?"

"Oh. Just a few unanswered questions, you know, after everything that happened." She was a good actress, Harry had to give her that. Once upon a time he would've believed her, but war had taught him too much. The way her voice rose towards the end, the way she avoided making direct eye contact… there was something she wasn't saying. It wouldn't do any good probing now, but he filed it away in the "unsolved mystery" corner of his mind.

It was getting a bit crowded in there.

-HP-

As the clock on the landing chimed 10 o'clock, the doorbell rang simultaneously. He should've known Narcissa would be unerringly punctual. Harry made his way to the front door, all the while thanking whatever twisted deity watched over him that Ron was still asleep. He had a feeling a good night's sleep would be enough for his friend to process the previous evenings conversation.

Both Narcissa and her son were still wearing the same clothes as the day before, which cemented Harry's resolve he was making the right decision. He attempted a thin, watery smile at her before motioning for the two to come inside. Closely behind them, a single small trunk levitated.

"Your room is on the second landing. I can show you yours then take M…your son to his." It was an odd dynamic, but Harry was making his best efforts to avoid addressing Malfoy directly, speaking only to Narcissa.

"Thanks you Mr. Potter." She spoke formally, and it was clear that she was laying down the expected interaction between them. Formality it should be, to perpetuate the illusion that she was his housekeeper and not a poor near-widow of a convicted Death Eater clutching at her last straw.

Leaving the two Malfoys to unpack (he had directed the blonde to his room with nothing more than awkward silence and a slightly rude hand gesture) Harry headed back to the lounge to find Hermione inspecting his furniture.

"What are you doing?" He asked.

"Working out how best to re-arrange your furniture." She made her way to the other side of the couch and leant her weight against it, clearly trying to shift it but failing.

"Um… okay. Is there a reason you don't like it the way it is?"

"Well, we can't keep it like this when everyone comes over." She said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Can you help me move this over there?"

"Everyone? What are you talking about?" Harry joined her next to the couch, putting his significantly greater strength behind it. Slowly, the heavy leather piece started to move across the floor. "Where are we putting this anyway?"

"I want to move it over there to create some more open space." She pointed to a spot a few feet away. "And don't you remember? We're having a few people over for your birthday tonight."

"I thought we were just inviting the Weasley's?" Harry continued to push the couch, grunting as it slid into place. "I hardly think we need to rearrange things for them." She gave him a sheepish sort of smile in return, wiping away a stray curl.

"Well we sort of… extended the invite, a little bit. Word got out. Harry Potter's 18th birthday party was a hard thing to keep on the down low you know." She added reasonably.

"Hermione, how many people are coming tonight?" Harry straightened up, confronting his closest girl friend with not a little bit of trepidation.

"Well. The Weasley's will definitely be here. And I invited some of our year as well… but then it sort of snowballed…"

"Snowballed?"

"Well we invited Hagrid, of course. And then it seemed natural to extend the invite to the Order. And next thing we knew…"

"The number Hermione. How many people." Harry growled out, trying to sound threatening even though he was grinning helplessly.

"About 50. I think. That we know of." She added, matching his grin while still trying to look chagrined.

"Hermione! How did… I should never have left you guys organise a birthday party for me." He finished, somewhat petulantly.

"Nonsense Harry. We had to extend the invite. Everyone was a bit down at the castle, and when word got out they all just got so excited. You sort of disappeared after… well after everything. This is a good way to get back in touch with everyone without it being awkward."

"I think you've forgotten who you're speaking to Hermione. I'm the definition of awkward in social situations."

"You'll be fine Harry. At least this way there's a bit of a buffer between you and Ginny as well." She said it so matter-of-factly it stunned him for a second. She looked up at him, pleased that his arguments seemed to have ceased. "Now, can you help me move these armchairs?"

Knowing it was futile, Harry just let out an exasperated sigh. How bad could it really be, after all?


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

-HP-

The closer the hour got, the more frantic Hermione became. Harry had thought he'd done a good job tidying things up, but she seemed to sweep through the house like an irate Cornish Pixie, charming everything in her reach with cleaning spells he's never heard of. To escape her wrath, both Ron and Harry had fled to the attic to play exploding snap for the afternoon.

"So… Hermione told me the Malfoy's arrived this morning." Ron said, after a particularly pregnant pause.

"Er… yeah they did." Harry eyed his best friend over his abysmal hand of cards, wondering where this was going.

"Are you… are you sure about this Harry?" _Ah, here we go. Maybe if I can convince Ron I can convince myself at the same time that this isn't the worst idea in my long history of bad ideas._

"Sure about what Ron?"

"Well, they're Death Eaters…" Ron was concentrating on carefully placing his card down. It had been a while since they'd last exploded and they were both getting apprehensive.

"Ex-Death Eaters Ron. And Narcissa never got the mark apparently."

"Okay, but the Ferret…"

"Look Ron." Harry said exasperatedly, putting his next card down a little more forcefully than intended. Fortunately the deck remained silent. "What would you have done? They showed up, looking utterly downtrodden. It would've taken the last of her pride just to show up here to begin with."

"I know Harry. I suppose I don't mind his mum so much. I just… how can you trust him? To be… around?"

"Well, he can't get up to much under this roof. And Hermione told me the Black manor is warded so you can't harm its owner or something. Not in the house anyway."

"Yeah she mentioned that to me too. She's been doing a fair bit of research on this place for some reason."

"Has she?" Harry asked mildly, trying not to sound too intrigued. "Did she say why?"

"No, something about tying up loose ends. You know what she's like." Ron was too preoccupied with his next card to be any more forthcoming. Harry took the time to ponder over Hermione's seeming obsession with his godfather's family history.

 _What could possibly interest her so much about their sordid past, and what on earth would she be looking for in their library?_

"Anyway. Just… watch your back." Ron added. "And don't expect me to be nice to the ferret." Harry grinned.

"Deal." Harry said, reaching for his next card. He was just about to set it down when a clearly magnified voice shook through the house.

"Harry James Potter!" The sudden noise made the boy in question lose his concentration, and sure enough he dropped his card a little too eagerly. With a ferocious bang the deck exploded, showering him in bits of tattered card.

"Shit." He groaned, getting to his feet and dusting off the soot. "What does she want?"

"Mate, I'm just glad she's not screeching at me. It's been like that all summer." Ron said with a grin, clearly showing no signs of getting up. "Good luck."

-HP-

Hermione was on the second floor, levitating what looked like small blinking disco lights into position along the wall of the lounge room. He was so busy admiring her charm work he didn't notice Narcissa until she greeted him.

"Good afternoon Mr. Potter." She said quietly, her own set of disco lights popping out of her wand.

"Oh… hello Mrs. Malfoy. I hope Hermione hasn't dragged you into preparing for this party as well." She smiled her soft, graceful smile that always made Harry feel five years old again.

"I offered. As your housekeeper it would be remiss of me to have guests over without making sure the house is impeccable."

"Oh, right of course. Um… thanks?" Harry said somewhat awkwardly. Narcissa merely smiled in return as she swept out of the room, the twinkling balls following behind her as she headed to the adjacent room.

"How are you not dressed yet?" Hermione finally turned on him, skipping the pleasantries. "And why are you covered in all that soot? The guests are going to be here in an hour!"

"Exactly. An hour. I have plenty of time." She gave him an exasperated look.

"Well get dressed now anyway. I've put a little something on your bed for you to wear." Harry rolled his eyes.

"Of course you have. Fine, I'll go get changed."

"Good. You should also stop by M… er… Draco's room on the way." Harry gave her one of those looks, the sort you bestowed upon a friend who had just suggested buying a blast ended skrewt as a pet.

"Why would I willingly do that?"

"You should… well… he should know about tonight. It'll be worse if he doesn't and wanders down unknowingly. You should probably extend the invite as well out of courtesy." She added.

"I really don't think…"

"It's just rude not to Harry." Hermione reasoned, stopping him before he argued with her more. She was back in business mode, a new set of disco lights popping out of her wand. "He won't come anyway, but you need to at least let him know."

"Is there anything I can say that will change your mind on this?"

"No." He could see the corner of her lips tugging in a small smile, but she was not to be swayed.

Harry made a point of stomping away loudly in childish defiance.

-HP—

Harry knocked tentatively on Draco's door, trying to ignore the overwhelming desire to reach for his wand. The door swung open to reveal the blonde haired boy - dressed in Harry's jeans and muggle tshirt - looking somewhere between confused and pissed off as to why he was there.

"Hi." Harry said awkwardly, still trying to process how ridiculous Malfoy looked in muggle clothing. He had given the clothing to Narcissa earlier that day, and she had clearly somehow cajoled her son into wearing it. Probably so she could wash the only other set he owned.

"What." The boy growled back. "Come to rub it in?"

"Rub what it in?"

"The fact that the Great Malfoy family has become your charity case." Draco sneered, motioning down to his attire. Harry bit back a laugh, knowing it would do nothing to appease the situation.

"No, no…I…"

"Well what then." Draco bit back impatiently, crossing his arms.

"I just wanted to let you know we're having a party." The silence was deafening, and would've been hilarious if he was a spectator to this conversation.

"Okay. Duly noted." Draco said shortly, moving to close the door.

"Wait. Um… Hermione… that is… if you wanted to come join us…" More silence, as golden as the last. He inwardly cursed the bushy haired girl, vowing to make her do this next time.

"Are you insane?" The other boy eventually said. "What on earth would possess me to spend the evening with Gryffindorks and their motley collection of loser friends – all of whom have very good reason to want me dead?" Harry huffed in annoyance.

"There's no need to be a jerk Malfoy. It was just an offer. And I'm sure everyone will be polite enough not to kill you. Not in public at least."

"How comforting." The other boy drawled. "I suppose you'll protect me from them will you?"

"Well… I… look come if you want, or not. But nothing will happen to you under this roof."

"I'm swooning in my boots." Draco sneered. "Thanks for the offer, but I'd rather gauge my eyeballs out with a spoon." And with that, the door was slammed in his face, leaving Harry on the other side muttering all manner of profanities and seriously regretting his decision.

 _Merlin help me, if Ron doesn't end up killing him then I will._

-HP—

"So do you live here now then Harry?" Cho Chang, of all people, was engaging him in small talk and it seemed that every last interesting thought in this head had packed up and gone on vacation.

"Er… yeah."

"It's… nice." She added, looking around at the lounge room, which Hermione had done a masterful job of transforming into a twinkling wonderland of candles, disco lights and fluttering snitches. The latter had been a compromise, after he had discovered Hermione sprouting butterflies from her wand by way of decoration. Narcissa had gracefully come to the rescue and suggested snitches might be more appropriately masculine for a boy's party.

"It used to belong to my godfather." Harry bravely preserved with conversation, even though it was clearly a lost cause.

"Wasn't he… isn't he that murderer who killed all those people?" She asked, looking apprehensively around the room as if the man himself was about to pop out and start hexing everyone.

"He was innocent." Harry said dully, trying not to get too worked up at what was clearly ignorance on her part.

"Oh, right. Well good for him." She said brightly. "So, how are the trials then? I've been reading all about it in the papers… is it true that Draco Malfoy got off because of your testimony?" She said the last bit in a conspiratorial whisper, stepping into his personal space. Harry felt his mouth go unpleasantly dry as she leaned in, and tried hard not to look down at the wide expanse of chest that was clearly on proud display.

"I… I'm not really supposed to talk about it…" He stuttered, trying in vain to maintain eye contact.

"Oh… well I promise I'll keep it a secret… just between you and me." She said with a wink, reaching out her hand and placing it softly on his chest. Suddenly the room, and his clothes, all felt far too small. He realised it was his turn to say something but he couldn't for the life of him remember what they'd even been talking about.

"Harry, there you are. I was just looking for you." Hermione, bless her bushy hair, had spotted Harry's uncomfortable situation from across the room and swooped in. "I need your help in the kitchen with something quickly."

"Okay." He said weakly, allowing himself to be dragged away with an awkward wave at Cho, who clearly looked put out.

"…be careful." He was still so distracted it took a few seconds to realise Hermione was talking to him. "She's interning at the Prophet. You can't let yourself be duped by every pretty girl who comes along or you'll end up on the front page again."

"I wasn't getting duped." Harry said indignantly.

"Really? You looked like you could barely contain your own drool. I know she's pretty Harry but really, I thought you had more sense than that." Hermione said, sniffing in distaste in Cho's general direction.

"I… she's… it's not like that." This was partially true. While still pretty, Harry struggled to resurface the same level of admiration he had for the witch in 5th year. But he was eighteen, and breasts were breasts.

"I'm sure it's not. But you should still be careful." Hermione had led him to the adjoining lounge room, where a group of his old Hogwarts Professors had gathered in what appeared to be loud and raucous conversation. As soon as Flitwick spotted him he began to vigorously wave at Harry to join them, nearly toppling over in the process.

"Here." Hermione held out a glass of something. "I managed to find one of the good bottles in the study this afternoon. I think you'll like it. Now go and have fun, preferably with less tarty females."

"Yes ma'am." Harry said with a cheerful grin, taking the glass and heading over to Flitwick before the tiny professor gave himself a hernia. He felt rather than heard Hermione let out an exasperated sigh.

The party had been in full swing since about 6 o'clock, with a variety of teachers, Order members, students and even a few ex-students showing up. It was clear there had not been much cause for celebration since the final battle, as nearly everyone there was making a good go of it. He had spotted Ron and Seamus earlier – clearly inebriated – trying to teach Dean the lyrics to a Quidditch song. Even Arthur appeared to be enjoying himself, in a group that included Charlie, Bill, Hagrid and Slughorn. By the hand gestures he was using, Harry assumed their topic of conversation was not for innocent ears.

After the awkward encounter with Cho, he was now enjoying an amicable conversation with Flitwick, Sprout and McGonagall about the reconstruction of Hogwarts.

"I think I've managed to fix the hall now, at long last." Flitwick was saying. "But the house elves still seem to be having a bit of bother with the kitchens. The food isn't quite making its way up to the hall in one piece poor dears. It's causing them quite a lot of stress."

"They're unhappy about the gardens as well." Sprout added. "The vegetables outside Hagrid's are still a little on the small side, no matter how much Plant-Gro potion I put on them."

"Are the greenhouses okay?" Harry asked, trying to recall how much damage had been inflicted on them in the chaos. He was secretly hoping he may be able to escape Herbology lessons in his final year, as it had never been his favourite subject.

"Oh they're fine - we were able to import most of the plants in the greenhouses from Europe." Sprout said proudly, not noticing Harry's disappointed expression. "Although getting them through Wizarding Customs was harder than expected, especially the Venomous Tentaculas."

"I'm not surprised they didn't sail though." Harry grinned, vividly remembering a moment in sixth year when one of those plants had seized Seamus and he had squealed like a girl. "And how are the staircases going Headmaster?"

"All in working order, you'll be please to know." She said with her small smile, the one she always seemed to reserve for her favourite students.

"Just between you and me…" Flitwick said, dropping his voice and leaning into the group. "But it'll be good to see you back in those halls again next year Potter. And Granger and Weasley too. It wasn't quite the same without you." Harry smiled, a little more sadly this time.

"Thanks Professor. I'm looking forward to going back. Actually I'm looking forward to a year where nothing out of the ordinary happens. Well, by Hogwarts standards anyway."

"I can assure you Potter, I intend to make sure next year is absolutely dull by your standards." McGonagall said primly.

Harry tried not to think too hard about his unusual guest's two floors up, who were surely not included in McGonagall's definition of 'dull.'

-HP—

By 11 o'clock, most of the adult guests had departed, leaving a very rowdy bunch of students to drinks themselves into blissful oblivion. Ron had long ago passed out and had been levitated to his bed by Hermione, to the loud catcalls of his remaining brothers.

Unfortunately, with the guests now a more manageable size, Harry could no longer feasibly ignore Ginny. Sure enough, as he made his way over to refill his glass he ran into her at the drinks table.

"Hello Ginny." He said, trying not to sound too happy or too upset at the same time, fearing either end of the spectrum would upset her and lead to more yelling. Whatever happened, he could not handle more yelling.

"Hi Harry." She said cheerily. "Great party." She held up her drink, and Harry clinked his glass with hers, pleased she was in good spirits. She was wearing quite the dress – the sort of outfit Molly would never have allowed – and he tried to ignore his body's natural reaction to it.

"Thanks Gin. You look.. er… nice." He said, hoping to land on a suitably neutral adjective.

"Thanks Harry. You're looking good too. Is that a new shirt?" She asked, gesturing at the crisp black button down he was currently wearing.

"Yeah, an early present from Hermione. Clearly she didn't trust me to dress myself."

"Well, I'm glad Hermione managed to improve your dress sense even if I couldn't." The comment wasn't said cruelly, be he felt the barb nonetheless. Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, the awkward moment was saved by the arrival of a drunk Seamus.

"Hiya Harry." He said cheerfully, aiming for a casual shoulder punch and nearly flooring him. "How's it going?"

"Er… good." Harry tried to avoid the casual way Seamus put his arm around Ginny. "The trials and all that – been quite busy."

"Has it then? Well we've been at 'Ogwarts and it's been mental, ya know?" _No, I obviously don't know._ Harry thought bitterly, trying not to overanalyse his irrational dislike of Seamus too much.

"McGonagall has kept me up to date." Harry replied instead.

"Ah, right o' course. So are you going to stick with the Gryffindor team next year if they let us back in?" Seamus asked sloppily, leaning further onto Ginny. Next to him, the poor girl was clearly struggling under his weight.

"Hadn't really thought about it to be honest."

"Ah, well if you think you may step down… I always fancied meself a bit of a Seeker ya know. Wouldn't mind trying out if that's alright by you 'Arry." Harry suddenly felt a sweeping desire to re-join the Quidditch team next year that had nothing to do with his vengeful feelings towards the Irish boy.

"Sure Seamus. You should definitely try out." Harry said coolly. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go say hello to Alicia and Katie." With a polite nod to the still struggling Ginny, he walked off without a backward glance.

-HP—

The two ex-Chasers were huddled in the corner, both clutching empty glasses of punch and giggling like mad. In the past Harry would've avoided a scene like that at all costs, but he couldn't very well not go over now, after his dramatic exit.

"Harry, just go over and say hello. I promise they won't bite." It was Hermione again, who was starting to act like his fairy godmother.

"Why are you so interested in who I speak to?" He asked curiously, still eyeing the two giggling girls.

"You're my best friend Harry. And… well… you usually make a bit of a mess of things without me." Harry opened his mouth to retort, to say anything, really, in his defence, but found he had nothing.

"Well. It's not like I've ever been told what to do. Girls are just so… "

"Wonderful, pretty, intelligent?" Hermione supplied.

"Frightening." He finished, eyeing her with a grin.

"Look, I'll make it really easy. Go over there with these two drinks…" She levitated two full glasses of punch towards him. "… and offer it to them. Then ask Alicia about her upcoming trial with the Falcons, and Katie about her new job at the Ministry. I promise, nothing bad will happen. Oh, and take this one for yourself." She shoved a third glass into this hand. "More of that good firewhisky. You look like you need it."

"Yes ma'am." He said again, giving her a mock salute as he waved his wand and took control of the floating punch glasses. She rolled her eyes and, as always, disappeared back into the crowd. With another flick, the drinks were levitating before him as he made his way across the room to Katie and Alicia.

"Another drink?" He asked, trying to sound calm and collected. Both girls smiled and reached for them, as he took a somewhat eager swig from his own glass. Being nervous had not ended well for him in the past.

"Thanks Harry. So how has the Saviour of the Wizarding World been then?" Katie asked, not altogether unkindly.

"Decidedly less heroic actually." _Way to go Harry. That's sure to impress them._

"Well that's only to be expected. Less opportunity to be a hero these days." Alicia replied with an amused smile. "Trials getting you down?"

"Well, I'd rather be at Hogwarts, that's for sure." He said with a casual shrug.

"I saw you the other day – at Malfoy's." Katie added, clearly not picking up on the fact that he did not want to talk about his summer activities as judge and jury of Death Eaters. "I'm sorry I didn't stick around to say hello. I was meeting mum straight after."

"Oh, that's… that's fine. I caught up with McGonagall after instead."

"I still can't believe he got off." Katie continued, clearly heading towards a topic that a less drunk Harry would've known better than to engage in. "I heard it was one bit of testimony that swung the dial in the end – do you know anything about that?" Harry tried not to look to shifty.

"Er… no. It was just the sum of the evidence in the end I suppose." He said weakly, wondering where he'd gone wrong with Hermione's advice to end up in this conversation.

"Still. Just makes you think – there's still all these Death Eaters walking around out there. We should've just locked them all up." Katie said somewhat viciously. Harry felt himself grow warm, and tugged at his collar, wracking his brains for the instruction Hermione had given him to steer the conversation in another direction. _Katie had a job… somewhere… and Alicia was…she was…_

Harry took another purposeful swig of his drink. This was not going to end well at all.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

-A/N—

As it turns out I am, in fact, still alive! Sorry for the delay with this – no excuses, just life.

Enjoy this next instalment, and review if you feel the urge. I will make you squirm before I reveal the paring, because I believe that's how stories are meant to be read (that is… without knowing how it ends!) But suggestions are always welcome

Also - as I'm sure is obvious, I don't own these characters. If I did I would be drinking mojitos in Jamaica.

-A/N-

-HP-

Harry was not usually prone to severe headaches post-drinking, possibly because he'd never really set out to get truly inebriated before. But as he blinked his eyes awake the next morning, it was not hard to see why wizards paid so many galleons for hangover remedies.

As he gingerly sat up, Harry thought back on the events of the night before. In the cold light of day, his encounters with Cho and Ginny, capped off by that spectacular crash landing with Katie, could be considered quite the hat trick. He was sure Hermione would have a thing or two to say about it today.

Harry purposefully took his time in the shower, not only because it seemed to relieve his symptoms but because there was nothing about today he wanted to face. Between Hermione's lectures, a sure to be grumpy Ron, and his two awkward house guests, good conversation was sure to be slim pickings.

By the time he made it to the kitchen, he had at least managed to brace himself for the day.

-HP—

By Sunday evening, Harry was ready to call it quits on his entire existence. Quite clearly, someone up there was just fucking with him.

The whole abysmal day had begun when he'd run into Hermione as he snuck his way out of the kitchen. Coffee in hand, the joy of freedom had been short-lived when the bushy haired girl had appeared out of nowhere, hands on hips.

"Harry, you have a gift." Temporarily thrown by the odd line, Harry allowed himself to be steered back into the kitchen.

"I… I do?"

"Yes. You do. I have never met anyone with your ability to completely and utterly BUNGLE things up."

"Like you said, it's a gift." He said weakly, grateful he'd at least managed to secure a coffee in advance of this conversation, because trying to ask for one now would not have ended well.

"I basically served those girls up to you on a silver platter. All you had to do was show up, be mildly interested in their lives, and you were a shoe in."

"Okay, but…"

"You're the saviour of the Wizarding World!" The volume of her voice was rising as the seconds ticked by, and Harry could actually feel the wave of her wrath approaching. "This is meant to be easier than hexing a Boggart!"

"That's great, but…"

"Do you have ANY idea how long it took me to console Katie afterwards?"

"Well, she's a bit senstitive…"

"You called her BIGOTED!"

"Well she is." Harry huffed impatiently, crossing him arms.

"THAT'S NOT HOW YOU GET WOMEN TO LIKE YOU!"

"The conversation… it just… got away from me." Harry said, in his most defeated tone.

"Okay Harry." Clearly his attempt at garnering sympathy worked because Hermione deflated just a little bit, finally taking a seat and pouring herself her own cup of coffee. "Take me through it so I can… so I can at least understand."

"Look, she started off talking about the trials." Harry began. "She was there testifying on behalf of Malfoy Junior, not sure if I told you that. Anyway, she's obviously been living under a rock as she didn't even know that my testimony helped keep him out of Azkaban… and then she started going on about how unfair it was that these… these _Death Eaters…"_ he said the word with distaste "… were allowed to just walk around unpunished."

"Oh Harry…" Hermione had clearly joined the rest of the dots, but he powered through.

"Anyway, bloody _Alicia_ piped up at this point and said something about the prophet article from earlier this week. Katie well, she didn't take too well to it, and she started to get really worked up. She told me being a Saviour was going to my head and I was just out to save everybody…" Harry hadn't even realised how angry the whole thing had made him until now, having been drunk enough to dull the blow the first time.

"She had the audacity to tell me that I was… interfering with the judicial process! Like she's got any clue what Kingsley and his bunch of moronic… _followers_ … are doing in there." Hermione was biting her lip at this point, clearly torn between her continued exasperation at Harry and her amusement at the tale he was unfolding. "And then Angelina and George came over – I'm pretty sure they were snogging in the corner mind you - and started accusing me of working Katie up… and well you saw what happened then."

"Harry you know George is still hurting over… well… over everything. He's got every right to be angry…"

"He didn't need to throw a swing at me." Harry was clearly still miffed.

"He missed Harry." It seemed amusement was winning by this point, because she was positively grinning at this point. Admittedly the scene she had wandered in on – in which Harry was vainly try to back out of the conversation while a very violent George and irate Katie had at it – would've been utterly hilarious. Fortunately she'd arrived when she did, as she was somehow able to smooth the whole situation over before any of the other guests had cottoned on to what was happening. "And besides…" she added "… everyone was so drunk at that point, they didn't know what they were saying."

"If you say so." Harry said dully, downing the last of his coffee and trying not to think too deeply about how much he had crashed and burned. "I really did try to talk about their lives, you know, like you said."

"I'm sure you did Harry." As patronising as she was being, Harry let it go. He was just glad she'd stopped yelling as he wasn't sure his head could take much more.

-HP—

He had only just managed to escape Hermione when his second least favourite person in the house accosted him and suggested they talk about her duties. It was said in a way that did not leave room for argument.

Within minutes Harry was in the lounge room with Narcissa, quill and parchment scratching away as they nutted out the agreed contract. She was unerringly calm and polite, and seemed to have a much better grasp of what was needed of her than Harry did.

It was decided her primary role would be to look after the house - plan meals with the help of Kreacher, clean out the remaining dark artefacts, and anything else that would help restore the house to its glory days when it was the heart of the Black dynasty. She would receive a modest stipend for her duties, and any household expenses she incurred.

The other half of her role was to protect Harry's financial interests, something which he'd never spared a second thought to. He had given her access to his financials – or rather, the grubby scrolls that Gringotts had provided him that listed his various accounts and holdings. They had talked through what Harry knew – which apparently wasn't much – and then he'd left her to peruse. She had indicated they would need to schedule a visit to Gringotts at some point.

Harry honestly couldn't imagine a more awkward day than travelling to Diagon Alley with Narcissa Malfoy, but somehow it seemed rude to ask her to transfigure herself.

He supposed everyone would have to find out sometime.

-HP—

By the time Ron joined the festivities it was well into lunchtime. Harry and Hermione were enjoying the leftover beef stew from Friday, while Narcissa bustled around and took inventory of the kitchen.

"Are you sure we can't help Mrs. Malfoy?" Hermione asked for what must've been the third time.

"I assure you Miss Granger. I am perfectly capable of handling this myself." Harry was starting to come to the opinion that Narcissa just didn't actually know how to be rude to anyone.

"Morning." The baritone voice sounded from the door, indicating the arrival of Ron.

"Morning." Harry said, not looking up from his stew. In hindsight this was a bad move, as if he had looked up he would've seen Hermione purse her lips in what was clearly a warning signal.

"Morning Hermione." Ron tried again.

"Morning Ronald." At this point Harry DID look up, but it was too late to make a smooth exit now. He briefly saw Narcissa shuffle out the door out of the corner of his eye, envying her intuition with a passion.

"So… um… about last night…" Ron began.

"What about last night, hm?" Hermione asked, getting up from the table rather abruptly and whisking her plate into the sink with a flick of her wand.

"I'm… sorry?" _Bad move mate. Very bad move._

"Sorry? SORRY? What exactly is it that you're apologising for Ronald?" Harry picked up his bowl and drained the last of it, too hungry and hungover to leave it behind, before he too flicked it towards the sink.

"Herm… I just had a bit too much to drink… I didn't mean…"

"Didn't mean to? You were intoxicated by 10 o'clock Ronald Weasley! You asked McGonagall whether she preferred longer wands!"

"Well, that's a perfectly innocent…"

"We both know you didn't mean it like that Ronald." Hermione screeched. By this point Harry had managed to reach the door and high tail it out of there, but not before he heard a loud crash that signified Hermione had gotten into the dinnerware cabinet and was playing target practice with her boyfriend's head.

-HP-

If only that had been the last of it, but alas fate had one more cruel dish to serve him that day, and by process of elimination it had to come from Draco Malfoy.

He had just curled up with a good book after lunch – having chosen the third floor study to hide from his ambitious housekeeper and his warring friends – when a loud profanity broke the silence.

"Oh, for god's sake!" With deliberate pause, Harry looked up from his book and eyeballed the blonde at the door. He was still in jeans and a t-shirt, and this time Harry did nothing to hide his glee. If Malfoy wasn't going to make an effort then he could be as condescending as he liked, thank you very much.

"Did you want something Malfoy? Another t-shirt perhaps?" Harry asked.

"Fuck you Potter." The venom was palpable, and it was a source of mild amusement to Harry that his existence had been reduced to such dull rhetoric that he was almost enjoying this.

Almost.

"Charming as always. You'd think you would've learnt common human decency from your mother by now." Harry said dryly, pretending to go back to his book.

"Don't you dare talk about her Potter."

"Look Malfoy – were you in here for a reason or…"

"When are you stupid friends leaving?" Malfoy spat out, interrupting him.

"What's it matter to you?"

"I want to fucking eat something Potter. Between you're incessant socialising with half the wizarding world and now Weasel and the Mu… Granger…" Draco corrected himself just in time. "…and their domestic downstairs, I haven't been able to sneak into the kitchen since yesterday."

"Since… you haven't eaten since yesterday?" This was enough for Harry to put his book down. One day, feeling sorry for people was going to get him in… well… more trouble than it already had.

"Look Potter, I'm sick and tired of your pity. Your Gryffindor-ish-ness is nauseating at best, and positively vomit inducing the rest of the time. Can you just go and fucking get me some food?"

"Me? Look, I feel bad for you… but there's no way I'm walking in on THAT…" Malfoy gave him a glare that gave Harry pause. It said, in no uncertain terms, _I don't fucking care, go get me food._

"Fine Malfoy. Just wait here."

Five minutes later, having narrowly escaped with his life and all four limbs, Harry was back in the study with an armful of bread and cheese. Malfoy had seated himself next to the bookshelf and had clearly been pulling books out for a while, as there was quite the pile next to him.

"Here. This is all there was." Harry said, to announce his presence. The blonde barely gave him a second glance.

"Drop it in my room. I'm going to have an armful of b…" At these words, Harry released his hold on the food quite purposefully, and it slid to the floor. "You're a tosser." Malfoy finished instead, finally looking up and eying the pile of food that was now all over the floor.

"You're welcome." Harry snarled. "Take as many books as you like, please."

"Are you going to be using them all at once are you?"

"You could've at least asked." Harry said with a huff, deciding it wasn't worth picking the fight. "What are you so interested in anyway?" He left the food on the floor and made his way back to his couch, content on settling down with his book once more.

"Oh a little of this, a little of that." He said distractedly, pulling another book off the shelf. "You've got a few missing though." Harry had tried to pretend to be disinterested, he really had, but the last comment was too tantalising to just let drop. Having barely touched the books over the summer, there was only one person who could be responsible for mysterious missing books.

"Oh? What makes you say that?" Harry said, against his better judgement.

"Well there are gaps, for starters. But there are a few volumes of your family history that are specifically missing…"

"My family history?"

"The Blacks. Whatever. The family you've inherited with this dump." Malfoy said carelessly.

"What specifically is missing Malfoy?" Harry said loudly, his curiosity too great to rise to the bait of Malfoy's taunts.

"Huh." The silence that followed annoyed Harry to no end. Several seconds ticked by, and Harry could only grind his teeth in frustration as the blonde started counting volumes. "Well it seems… that the volume that's missing is the one that covers the last generation. My mother and your convict, as it would seem."

"He's not…"

"Focus Potter. You don't need to get your shackles up over every insult. Why is that volume missing?"

"Well Hermione…"

"Of course it's her." Malfoy interrupted rudely.

"…she's been researching the Black's." Harry regretted divulging this immediately after he blurted it out. Whatever reasons Hermione had to be researching, he knew they would be good ones. The fact that she had so far not told him, and was quite obviously keeping secrets from him, was at worst a little bit aggravating - but not cause to worry. Malfoy, on the other hand, would surely not be so quick to dismiss it, and may very well end up ruining his stealthy plan of trying to subtly pry it out of her.

"Why?"

"A fascinating question, to which I don't have the answer to. But I promise, I'm working on it."

"Well thank god you're working on it. That makes me feel loads better." Malfoy seemed to descend into sarcasm whenever he was angry, and his current mood was no exception. Fortunately Harry was used to it and decided to ignore it.

"Well what do you suggest? Assailing her and demanding answers?" Another silence, as the blonde raised a single eyebrow in response. Once again, Harry was struck by how much control the other boy had over his facial expressions, and it filled him with an irrational envy. Right now it was clearly saying _Well of course that's what we should do you stupid twat._

"No." Harry's own response smacked of his ineloquence. "Just let me handle it." The blonde looked like he was about to say something, but then thought better of it. Instead he got up with an armful of books, waved his wand to pick up the food off the floor with a quick _wingardium leviosa,_ and then swept out the door as if nothing had happened. Harry was once again left with the desire to punch something - or perhaps a more specific someone – right in the nose.

There was no doubt about it now. Someone up there was just fucking with him.

-HP—

Monday morning dawned grey and miserable, and it reflected Harry's mood perfectly. Despite the fact that they'd spent a good portion of the afternoon tearing the roof down with their loud and invasive argument, Harry was still slightly miffed at the thought of Ron and Hermione going back to Hogwarts.

"Don't forget to let us know what Kingsley says. I'm sure he'll let you come join us now."

"Yeah well, let's see what he says." Harry said, evidently nowhere near as optimistic as his friends were. They'd spent the evening before crafting the perfect letter to the Minister, articulating exactly why Harry wanted to return to Hogwarts and why it was for the 'good of the Ministry'. While it was quite the compelling essay, Harry knew it would do little to sway the Minister if his mind was already made up.

"I'm sure he'll agree mate.' Ron gave him a hearty clap on the back, evidently in much better spirits now that he had made amends with his girlfriend. At some point in the afternoon, Ron had finally stumbled on the right version of an apology, because when Harry finally came down just before dinner they were in the midst of quite an intense snogging session. The sight had made Harry feel quite ill, not least because it had sparked another wave of irrational jealousy.

As of now, they were standing on the threshold to Grimmauld place and his two friends were quite clearly reluctant to leave Harry with his untoward housemates.

"I'll be fine. Seriously, go. I'll let you know what Kingsley says."

"Alright Harry. Just, do be careful." Hermione gave him one last warning, and one last hug, before pulling Ron down the street and out of the anti-apparition zone.

With great reluctance, Harry turned back to the house. He had arranged with Narcissa that they would go into Gringotts that afternoon, and he needed to prepare himself for what would surely be the most awkward experience of his life.

-HP—

"Mr Potter, so good to see you and… er…"

The Leaky Cauldron was truly the most depressing place on earth. Unlike most of Diagon Alley it had survived the war relatively unscathed – possibly because Death Eaters enjoyed a stiff drink as much as the other side did. But this did little to improve its décor – if anything the walls and tables were sporting a few extra blood stains that Harry didn't want to think too deeply about.

"Thanks Tom. I'm sure you've met Mrs. Malfoy before." The Innkeepers expression was comedic, but once the shock war off it was sure to get ugly. "We're just passing through today, thanks." With a nudge, he urged Narcissa out the door and into the back alley where the entrance was.

"I'm happy to walk behind you Mr. Potter, if you think it'll help." Harry, for perhaps the first time since that day in the kitchen, looked her directly in the eye. She had an expression he couldn't decipher, but his improved intuition since the war told him she wasn't happy.

"I know this is hard, I'm sorry. But it's much better if you walk with me, and we just get through this as quickly as possible."

"As you wish Mr. Potter." With a nod, he began to open the entrance with a few taps of his wand. He had given up trying to get her to call him by his first name.

Diagon Alley was chaos, far more so than before the war. The stores that had been rebuilt were packed – seemingly with witches and wizards stocking up on supplies they had missed. Florean's had reopened, apparently thanks to his son, and the line was snaking its way down the alley and around the corner. Weasley Wizard Wheezes was now the focal point, the huge store taking up an entire corner and causing the most commotion with its loud bangs and flashing lights.

The chaos worked in their favour, as few people were paying attention to their surroundings. Harry had donned wizard robes for once, in the hopes of not being recognised, and had cast a notice-me-not charm for good measure.

It was a stroke of terrible luck that caused Harry to bump into the very last person he wanted to see, turning what could've been a fairly uneventful afternoon into a total disaster.

"Harry my boy! What brings you to Diagon Alley this afternoon?" Kingsley's booming voice caught the attention of the entire crowd. Harry's stomach plummeted, and he sensed Narcissa tense beside him. _Damnit Kingsley._ He was clearly doing a media visit as a wave of reporters were peaking behind him as he made his way through the crowd.

"Hello Kinglsey." Harry had to smile, of course. The first time he'd been grumpy and anti-social in front of the media they'd had a field day, and accused him of dealing with post-traumatic stress and being psychologically unbalanced. It had taken weeks to recover from that fiasco.

"Just doing a spot of shopping then?" Kingsley quite purposefully stepped around Harry, so he could face the cameras and provide the media frenzy with a good photo. By now the crowd and reporters had cottoned on to his identity, and the steady crescendo of shouts and clicks as the cameras went off was making his head spin.

"Visiting… err... Gringotts actually." Harry wobbled out through a smile that was starting to hurt. So far, Narcissa on his right had gone unnoticed. It was truly too much to hope that he'd get away with it.

"Ah just checking in on the finances are we? And who is this lovely young…" Kingsley stopped, mid-sentence, as recognition slowly sunk in that the woman on Harry's right was neither young, nor by his standards, lovely.

"I'm sure you've met Mrs. Malfoy." Harry persevered bravely, wishing he felt it. "She's my financial advisor." More camera flashes, a few shouted questions which he continued to ignore. He couldn't look away from the expression on Kingsley's face even if he'd tried.

"Your… your financial advisor?"

"That's right, and unfortunately we've got a lot to do so we really should be off…" Harry gave the blonde woman another nudge. "But do make sure to reply to my owl…" He added, just in case he was due for a bit of good luck.

Shock was playing in his favour, as he managed to weave through the crowd and up the stairs to Gringott's relatively unscathed. Naturally, the frenzy tried to follow him inside but two surly looking goblins blocked their path. Harry had never been so grateful to the strange creatures.

-HP—

Once inside his vault, Harry had to admit his financial position was bordering on ridiculous. The combined wealth of his parents and Sirius had all been stuffed into a single vault, evidently with no attempt at organisation. Galleons and sickles and knuts were piled to the roof, amidst troves of odd looking trinkets that he presumed were also worth something. Beside him, he heard Narcissa cluck her tongue disapprovingly.

"Honestly, look at this mess. Half of this has probably not even been valued properly." She muttered, almost to herself, as she swept through the chaos. "We'll need to open separate accounts for the money and the other valuables." She added, behind a rather large pile of galleons. Harry just grunted in agreement.

"Whatever Mr. Potter needs." The goblin who had escorted them – a particularly wrinkly one called Tilruk – was evidently a little star struck as he had been standing awkwardly close to Harry since they got in the vault. "We can discuss… ah… fees… upstairs." He added, evidently not star struck enough to forget hit nature entirely.

"Of course. I think I've seen everything I need to see here."' Narcissa said stiffly. "Are there any other vaults under Harry's name?"

"Ah, there is… one last thing. Not a vault, per say. But it does belong to Harry for all intents and purposes."

Harry's mind was going wild with possibilities as the mine cart whizzed its way through the undergrown cavern. _What could this mysterious treasure be?_ For a moment his thoughts went to the Gryffindor sword, but that had been donated to the Museum of Magical History following the final battle.

The cart was slowing to a halt in a strange part of the cavern. There were no vaults – just lots of dark openings leading to a seemingly endless expanse of caves. They stopped near one such opening, and the goblin indicated for Harry to go inside. Ignoring his fears, Harry hopped out of the cart and approached the entrance. As he did, two impossibly bright lights flashed directly in his eyes, momentarily blinding him. As his vision adjusted, an odd shape began to emerge from the shadows.

It took another few moments for Harry to piece together what he was seeing, and a few more before he worked out where it had come from. Somehow, after all these years, it had finally made its way to him.

For the shape in the shadows was unmistakeably his godfather's glorious, flying motorbike.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

-HP—

When three owls swooped into the kitchen at Grimmauld Place the next morning, Harry knew he was in for a bad day. One was undoubtedly the Prophet, and he instinctively reached for it first with a sense of resignation.

The front page was, as expected, dwarfed by a photo of himself and Kingsley surrounded by the throng of press. The Minister was peering out of frame and then back at Harry with a deer-in-headlights look on his face that was truly poetic. Narcissa, barely visible in the shot, was stony faced – managing to remain impassive even in the throes of such a chaotic scene. His own image was oddly determined as it tugged on Narcissa, evidently trying to follow her out of sight.

The story itself was a twisted mess of journalism – having very little to work with Skeeter had obviously done her usual trick of leaping to conclusions to spice up the tale. At one point the article accused Harry of "well-meaning but misguided charity cases", but a few paragraphs later it seemed to allude Harry was being preyed on by "an older, attractive woman". His saving grace was that the article did not seem to have picked up on the living arrangements.

A quick scan convinced him there was nothing else of note in the paper. With a disgusted snort, he threw it across the table and reached for the first letter. A shiny wax seal bearing the Minister's crest was emblazoned on it, and sure enough the contents revealed a curt letter from Kingsley asking him to stop by his office that afternoon. _Sure Kingsley, at your command._

The goblins had been kind enough to let them use the back entrance of Gringotts after their visit, a favour typically reserved for high net worth customers. Harry had used a strong glamour to get them back to the Leaky Cauldron unseen, meaning they had avoided a second confrontation with the Minister. It had, of course, meant that he'd had to leave his new bike behind, much to his dismay.

Harry reached for the next, unmarked letter. Inside, written in loopy cursive that briefly reminded him of Dumbledore, was a letter from Alicia.

 _Hi Harry,_

 _Was so great to see you this weekend at your party. I know this letter is a bit out of the blue, but I just wanted to write a quick note and apologise for blabbing about the trials to Katie – she's been having a rough time ever since the Battle and I think she took it out on you. For the record, I think what you did for the Malfoy's was really brave._

 _Not sure what you're up to over the summer (assuming you're going back to Hogwarts soon) but if you're around and bored do let me know. I'm trying out for the Wasps in Wimbourne next week, but am bouncing around London this week. We can catch up and talk Quidditch over some drinks!_

 _Let me know if you're free._

 _Your friend,_

 _Alicia_

Contrary to popular belief, and the events of his birthday party that admittedly suggested otherwise, Harry wasn't entirely naïve about women. Alicia's letter was seemingly friendly, but could very easily be alluding to something decidedly less 'friendly'. Already, in his mind, he could hear Hermione.

 _Heading out in London by yourself is risky Harry. You can't expose yourself like that over any pretty girl that comes along. Besides, you've never shown an interest in her before have you?_

Harry put the letter down, a stupid grin still on his face. He already knew what Ron would say.

 _Mate, Alicia was mad popular in high school. Just go for it._

A snarky voice interrupted his musings, wiping the smile off his face in a hurry.

"What have you go to smile about Potter? It's 8am in the morning." The grumpy blonde had clearly been woken by something, as he was dishevelled and still a little groggy.

"Some of us have been awake for a while Malfoy." Harry said calmly, motioning to the pot of coffee merrily steaming away in the corner - a neat charm he had perfected since the war.

Draco shuffled to the pot and poured himself a generous cup before taking a seat as far away from Harry as possible. It also meant he sat himself right in front of the discarded Prophet. Harry winced, and started to count down in his head.

 _Five… four… three…_

Coffee exploded everywhere as Malfoy, finally surfacing from his morning stupor, read the front page. The merry article was winking back at him, emblazoned "Chosen One employs Death Eaters".

"What the fuck is this?" He screeched, his nasally voice echoing around the kitchen. Harry waved his wand to clear the mess before he replied.

"Fallout, from our little trip to Gringotts yesterday. I'm surprised your mother…"

"You!" A threatening finger was pointed at him. "You did this, you went to the press you snarky little…"

"I did nothing Malfoy. We were seen yesterday, that's all there is to it. Your mother will verify." Harry snapped back, returning the favour and interrupting the other boy.

"Do you have any idea what this…"

"What? What this will do to your reputation? It's already in tatters Malfoy. If anything the article destroys mine, possible your mothers – it doesn't even mention you." The blonde went silent as he glanced down at the paper once more, obviously scanning the rest of the content.

"Manipulative tactics? How dare they talk about her…" Malfoy scowled, almost to himself, as he continued to read. "Naïve boy, yeah right…" Another snort, before he finally seemed to get to the end of the article. "This is trash Potter."

"You think I don't know that? Surely by now you must have worked out how much I don't like being in the papers. Although merlin knows you've contributed enough to a fair share of trashy stories about me." Harry sneered out the last comment, almost involuntarily. It was the first time either had mentioned their 'past', and it hung suspended in the air for a few moments before Malfoy broke it with his usual sarcasm.

"Contrary to your belief Potter the world doesn't revolve around you. This trash is going to make it much harder for us. Do you use that thing between your ears before you act, or do you just bump around like a blind hippogriff until you get it right?"

"Well no offense Malfoy, but whatever I'm doing it seems to be working a hell of a lot better than your approach." Harry snapped back, deciding he was done with this conversation. Tucking his two letters under his arm, he moved towards the kitchen door.

"I'm going out today." Malfoy announced, just as Harry passed him on his way out. It was said as a statement, leaving no room for argument – yet it still gave Harry pause.

"Okay." Harry stopped and turned towards the other boy, resisting the urge to ask where he was going. "Do you need anything?"

"No, I just didn't want you… I don't know… freaking out."

"I'm not your babysitter Malfoy."

"Look whatever. Next time I'll just leave then." Malfoy sneered, rudely shoving past Harry as he made his way back to the coffee pot to refill his mug.

-HP-

By the time Harry left Grimmauld Place, Malfoy was long gone. Not that Harry particularly cared where he went, but it would look bad if the boy ended up dead in the gutter while supposedly a guest under his roof. In future, rather than being an arse, he vowed to at least ask where the git was going.

Harry made his way to the Ministry of Magic with some trepidation, but not as much as he anticipated. He knew Kingsley was going to chew his ear off today, but rather than be afraid he was almost angling for the confrontation.

Shuffling into the Ministry Atrium, Harry donned his usual glamours to avoid attracting attention. Reaching the lift, he pressed Level 1 – Office of the Minister for Magic. A portly wizard followed after him, but did not give him a second glance.

The top floor of the Ministry was almost the polar opposite of the Department of Mysteries. White walls, large windows charmed to show the English countryside outside – it was light, airy and the polar opposite of what the office represented. The woman at the front desk was a small blonde, surrounded by mountains of paper that seemed to shuffle about of their own accord. As Harry approached, the shuffling paused momentarily.

"Good Morning. Do you have an appointment for today?" She said with a smile.

"Er… well yes… kind of." The woman's smile immediately faded.

"You can't get in without an appointment sir." Her tone was decidedly less friendly.

"He asked to see me. I…"

"You still need to make an appointment sir. Now can I have your full name and address here, we'll owl you with the Minister's next available…" Sensing this had the potential to drag on indefinitely, Harry had dropped his glamour. It took several seconds for the woman to recognise him, but Harry felt a selfish sense of satisfaction as it had the desired effect.

"Mr. Potter." She said breathily. "I didn't… of course… let me see if the Minister is available."

Minutes later and he was being escorted into the office at the end of the corridor. The large glass doors opened to reveal an enormous office, much larger than could reasonably fit in the space. The Minister was at his desk, an oversized quill in his hand. The office had a similar décor to the corridor outside – modern, glass and a little stark.

"Harry my boy! Good to see you. I didn't hear back from you this morning so I wasn't sure you'd got my letter." _Well it didn't really leave any room for interpretation did it?_ Harry thought sourly.

"I figured you'd assume I'd come unless you heard otherwise." Harry said casually, taking a seat without being offered.

"Excellent, excellent." Kingsley pushed the stack of parchment in front of him aside, and clasped his hands together loudly. "So… that incident yesterday… I have to say Harry it took me a bit by surprise."

"Er… well I didn't think…"

"Well yes that's the point isn't it." Kingsley said, the cordial tone in his voice disappearing rather suddenly. "Now I think it's best if you start from the beginning and fill me in." Harry felt something claw at his chest – the same spark of frustration he'd been feeling all summer, but now larger and far harder to contain.

"I don't really see what this has to do with the Ministry." Harry said, crossing his arms and trying not to feel like a petulant child.

"It's not that at all Harry. We… that is… I'm just concerned about you being taken advantage of."

"Well in that case you can be comfortable that I'm perfectly aware of what I'm doing, and it was my decision. There was no manipulation on the part of the Malfoys…" Harry knew he'd made a mistake a split second after the word left his mouth.

"Malfoys? You're not working with Lucius as well? Well no you wouldn't be… he's in Azkaban… so it must be Malfoy Junior then… what's his name…"

"Draco." Harry said tightly. "And yes, the arrangement concerns the two of them. As I said, Narcissa is acting as my financial advisor."

"Well how does it concern both of them?" Harry paused, silently weighing up the decision. He could keep this from Kingsley, but it wouldn't really achieve much. After all, the Minister had no power to change his mind now.

"I have offered board to the two Malfoy's, in exchange for Narcissa's financial advice. She is also tending to Grimmauld Place." More silence, as Kingsley absorbed the information. Harry was impressed with his ability not to react.

"I see." He eventually said. "Why?"

"Because it was the right thing to do Kingsley." Harry had occasionally used the Ministers first name when they were alone, and he made use of it now in the hopes of disarming the man. "There's nothing more to it than that."

"I really wish you'd spoken to me beforehand Harry."

"Well I didn't." Harry replied shortly, his temper flaring. "It wasn't about purposefully keeping it from you, it really just didn't involve you or the Ministry at all."

"Well, that's not entirely true Harry. This is much bigger than either of us. We're trying to show a tough stance on Death Eaters, and if you of all people are opening up your home to them… well it doesn't look so good."

"Narcissa and Draco were tried and found not guilty Kingsley. I am in full support of tough sentences for the guilty but you can't continue to punish those that the Wizengamot has declared innocent." Harry said, pleased that his voice sounded a little more confident.

"It's not so black and white Harry. I alluded to this after the trial. There are… bigger things at play. Things you're not aware of…"

"Well maybe if you kept me in the loop Kingsley, I wouldn't be so quick to mess up your plans." Harry interrupted somewhat viciously.

"That's… fair… I suppose. You must understand we're just trying to keep you safe…"

"We? Who is this we you keep referring to?" Kingsley sighed, sitting back in his chair. He surveyed the younger boy from across his desk, seeming to come to a decision.

"I suppose it's time I let you in on some of the Ministry's plans."

"Yes I'd rather suppose it is." Harry said drily.

"A lot of it is top secret mind, so I can only tell you so much. But I'm sure it's not surprise to you that, following the events of last year, we needed to take action to prevent that sort or… er… uprising… from occurring again."

Harry narrowed his eyes, but remained silent.

"So we created a new branch of the Ministry. No… I'm not talking about Reparations and Reconstructions… although it is a small unit that reports to them." Kingsley added, seeing the understanding in Harry's face. "The Head of that Department, John Dawlish, has personally overseen…"

"Dawlish? Wasn't he tried by the court?"

"It was found he was acting under the Imperius, if you recall. He's a very good wizard Mr. Potter, an excellent auror and incredibly loyal to the Ministry. I trust him wholeheartedly." Harry couldn't see how loyalty to the Ministry made one trustworthy, but decided to let it slide.

"We've called it The Order…" Harry's eyebrows shot up in recognition. "Yes, I thought it quite amusing myself. It seemed appropriate, given it mostly consists of ex-Order members themselves. They were considered the most… trustworthy." The word resurfaced again, and made Harry wince internally.

"So Arthur, Slughorn…"

"I'd rather not name names…" Kingsley said evasively, but his head gave the tiniest nod. It was all the proof Harry needed. The dots started to connect, as he mentally ticked off the list of people who had been acting evasive and secretive around him. All those months, kept in the dark, aware that something was brewing that he wasn't being told about… How could he have been so stupid? He was so afraid of trusting his instincts after, well, everything – but here was proof that he'd been a fool not to.

"So what's the purpose – or the new purpose – of The Order?" Harry asked.

"Well it's not so different. They're tasked with keeping the peace, tracking down Death Eaters – but now it's an official Ministry operation we've been able to extend their powers to more… er... pro-active investigations."

"You're talking about spying." Harry said fatly.

"Well it's a little more covert than that. We're just trying to nip these sorts of things in the bud earlier on. Keep a closer eye, as it were."

"Is that why you've installed Ministry employees as teachers at Hogwarts?" Harry asked, trying to keep the distaste out of his voice. More and more pieces of the puzzle were falling into place, and his brain was working in overdrive to stay ahead of it.

 _McGonagall knew – or must have suspected. Why else would she have asked me to keep my head down?_ In that moment, Harry decided to keep following her advice. Temper tantrums had not served him well in the past – rocking the boat now would only serve to lock him out completely.

"Hogwarts is free to make its own hiring decisions of course – but we've made some polite suggestions along the way. You must agree that some of the… er… lax oversight in the school did contribute a large part to the Second War." Harry didn't trust himself to say anything.

"So, what's all this got to do with me and the Malfoys?" Harry asked instead. He knew the answer of course, it was obvious after all, but playing dumb seemed like a safer route.

"Well we're trying to keep an eye on these Death Eaters Harry. The Order had lost track of the Malfoys – they weren't showing up… well they weren't where they were supposed to be." Kingsley said. Harry once again had the feeling that the Minster was being evasive, but knew it wasn't worth pursuing just yet.

"Your decision to help the Malfoys made The Order team… well it surprised them to say the least. And it shouldn't have, because it's their job to know what's going on." Kingsley continued. "We're all on the same side here."

"Well if we're all on the same side…" Harry said, desperately trying to keep the acerbic tone out of his voice. "… it seems odd for you to keep such critical information from me."

"We were just trying to protect you Harry. You're the shining light of our new world Harry – no good will come of you mixing up in this business. That's also why your association with the Malfoys is a bit… ah… concerning."

"I'm not going to renege on my agreement with the Malfoys." Harry said flatly, sensing where this was going.

"Yes of course – given the media has gotten hold of the story I understand that's a bit hard to do now." Harry didn't bother pointing out that this had nothing to do with his refusal to go back on the offer. "But there may be a silver lining. The arrangement puts you in close proximity with the wife and child of You-Know-Who's closest supporter. We were hoping you might be able to… assist... the Order."

Harry felt his blood start to simmer once more. Surely, surely the Minister wasn't asking him to _spy_ on the Malfoys? But then again, it really shouldn't have been so surprising. After everything he'd heard, this was probably the least depraved thing he'd heard in the last 10 minutes.

"What exactly do you want me to do Kingsley?"

"Nothing too untoward of course. Just, keep an eye on them – their movements, who they see, who they speak to." Harry thought about Malfoy currently wandering around London and felt a strange sense of satisfaction. _I hope he does cause trouble, just to fuck with the Order._

"And inform the Order, of course." Harry added, although it wasn't necessary.

"Naturally. Every so often, when convenient of course, you could drop by our monthly meeting and give us a quick update." Up until this point, Harry had seriously considered saying no. But the chance of going to one of their meetings – seeing the faces of those involved… well it was too good to pass up. And he knew instinctively this is what McGonagall would advise.

"Alright Kingsley. I'm in."

-HP-

Later that afternoon found Harry sitting at a café in Diagon Alley, parchment and quill in hand. He had two letters to write – one was incredibly important, and the other entirely self-indulgent.

He wrote the self-indulgent one first.

 _Hi Alicia,_

 _Thanks for the note – completely understand about Katie. No hard feelings!_

 _I am around London and would love to grab a drink – say tomorrow at 5 o'clock if that works? There is a new pub in Diagon Alley – the Owlery – that's a little less gloomy than the Cauldron._

 _Let me know if that works - look forward to seeing you soon._

 _Harry_

He then turned his attention to the more delicate letter.

 _Headmistress,_

 _I have just spoken to Kingsley, who has said I can spend a few days this week at Hogwarts._

Once Harry had agreed to spying on the Malfoys, it had been easy to get the Minister to agree to his demands.

 _It will involve some extra media presence while I'm there – it's a bit of a publicity stunt I'm afraid. Hope that's okay._

Well, almost all of his demands.

 _Was thinking of heading to Hogwarts on Friday afternoon via Floo, which will need you to open up one of the fireplaces. Perhaps the one in your office? Let me know which fireplace and what time so I can manage it at my end._

 _If you need me to bring anything let me know. Look forward to speaking with you - we have much to discuss._

 _Harry_

Hopefully McGonagall read between the lines and understood why it as so imperative he go to Hogwarts. He considered letting Ron and Hermione know, but then decided to keep them in the dark and surprise them on Friday. He was sick and tired of being the only one out of the loop.

Sealing up both letters, Harry dropped two sickles on the table to pay for his drink before heading to the Emporium to mail them out. He had only just stepped out onto the sunlit cobblestone alley when his eye caught a familiar flash of blonde hair.

It took him several moments to realise what he was seeing, and a few seconds more to react. The blonde was at a table outside Fortescue's, his back to Harry. Sitting absurdly close to him was a girl, although Harry wasn't able to identify her because she was almost entirely obscured by Malfoy.

The pair eventually pulled apart, and it was only then that Harry recognised the girl as Pansy, and realised why they were sitting so close. _Merlin, is Malfoy actually SNOGGING that bint?_

Harry's first sentiment was disappointment. Of all the nefarious things he had expected the boy to be doing, this was borderline dull. He had been hoping for some secret meetings, some evil plotting – anything that would've sent Kingsley and his New Order into a spin. But snogging in Diagon Alley in broad daylight was just… ordinary.

With an internal huff, Harry strode away, eyeing the pair out of the corner of his eye as they went in for round two.

Harry kept his glamour as he strolled to the Emporium and mailed the two letters, but he had to drop it once inside Gringotts. They wouldn't attend to him if he kept it on, and he really, really wanted to retrieve his godfather's motorbike.

The amount of paperwork involved in signing for its release was comical. At least three separate parchments were required; one confirming his desire to release the item, a second confirming he was aware of the restrictions of use under the International Statue of Secrecy, paragraph 8 (he wasn't) and a third waiver preventing him for making further enhancements under the Decree for the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts.

The bike also came complete with wobbly notes from Mr. Weasley, who had apparently tended to the bike after it was damaged by Death Eaters during his escape from the Dursleys. Aside from restoring the engine, Arthur had also added an invisibility charm similar to the one he'd put on his Ford Anglia.

By the time Harry stepped out of Gringotts (the back alley, once again, to avoid recognition), the sun had begun to set. It was a perfect evening for a bike ride in the sky, and it was exactly what he intended to do.

It took a few minutes, but he eventually got the hang of the bike's sensitive controls after narrowly missing a few buildings during his ascent. He was soon soaring over suburban London, the city turning pink behind him, as he made his way to Islington and Grimmauld Place. All too soon he spotted the street of his godfather's ancestral home, and started to make his descent just as twilight settled.

Similar to his take-off, Harry's landing was bumpy and awkward. Unable to swerve in time, his shirt and trousers were both torn by a tree as he descended on the street. Fortunately he managed to drop the bike onto the road without any further mishaps, and soon he was stuttering to a halt outside the familiar entrance.

"What the fuck is that." A familiar nasal voice pierced the night. Harry looked up to see Malfoy strolling down the street, evidently fresh from his encounter with Pansy. Harry grinned inwardly as he recalled the image of Malfoy with the Slytherin girl.

"A motorbike. My motorbike actually. It flies, did you know?" Harry said, swinging his leg over the bike and parking it outside Number 12.

"Where did you… you know what, I don't want to know." Malfor threw his hands up in the air and strode towards the entrance. Harry used his wand to secure the bike with a few warding charms, before following Malfoy up the stone steps.

"So… did you enjoy your date then?" Harry asked with a smirk, tapping the doorknob and making his way inside the house.

"My… what do you know Potter?"

"Only that I saw you snogging Pansy outside Florean's today." Harry said with a grin, watching the other boys discomfort as he followed Harry inside the house.

"You… you're a perverted little freak, did you know?" Malfoy seethed, evidently at a loss for any other witty comeback.

"Hey, I was just an innocent bystander." Harry raised his hands in mock surrender. "Nobody should have to see that. Seriously, Pansy? I don't even like you and I know you can do better."

"Don't talk about Pansy like that." Malfoy hissed, the remark obviously hitting a sore spot.

"Sorry, I'll stop insulting your girlfriend then." Harry said with another grin, pausing as they reached the first floor landing.

"SHE'S NOT MY GIRLFRIEND!" Malfoy shouted indignantly.

"DRACO LUCIUS MALFOY!" Narcissa appeared like a ghostly apparition at the top of the stairs, clad in a white nightgown. "WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN!" Harry was trying not to laugh overtly as all the colour drained from the other boy's face. The scene was so familiar to ones he had witnessed in the Weasley household, that it almost made his heart hurt.

"I… I…went out…" He finished lamely.

"I had guessed as much." Narcissa said, the volume of her voice dropping to a venomous hiss that was not unlike the one Malfoy often used. "Where exactly did you go?"

"I… saw Pansy…"

"A girl? You drive me crazy with worry for half the day for a girl? I'd at least hoped for a more interesting story." Narcissa seethed, mirroring Harry's sentiments from earlier that day.

"I'm… sorry." The other boy muttered sheepishly, a faint blush tinging his cheeks. It was all too much, and Harry couldn't help the snort escape his lips. It was his first mistake.

"And YOU!" Narcissa swept on him like a banshee. "Where have YOU been?"

"I… went to pick up my bike?" Harry said meekly, stunned into submission at suddenly being the subject of her wrath. Mentioning the bike was definitely his second mistake.

"Your bike? You drove it back here?"

"Well yes but…"

"The FLYING bike?"

"Well yes but…"

"And just LOOK at your clothes!" Harry decided it was better to stop talking rather than make the situation worse. He glanced helplessly across at the other boy, who looked like he was secretly hoping the staircase would swallow him whole. "Not a single note… the two of you are on the hit lists of some of the most powerful wizards alive on _both_ sides, and you see fit to just wander around London… I've seen house elves with more sense." Her voice took on a slightly hysterical tone towards the end that made Harry wince.

"Draco, I expected you to have more respect for your mother – although I can't say this surprises me." She said icily, staring down her son from her height advantage. "But you…" she turned her icy glare towards Harry. "I AM surprised at your total disregard for your safety, after everything you've been through and all those whose laid down their lives for you."

And with that, she pulled the knife out of Harry's chest and strode away.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

-A/N-

Coming to you from a villa in Santorini.

-A/N-

-HP—

 _If this is what having a caring mother is like then I'm starting to feel a lot less sorry for myself._ Harry thought darkly, the next morning, as he lay in bed and tried to come up with ways of getting to London that evening without causing another scene.

It was obvious he'd have to fess up to Narcissa. There was no way he was going have another guilt-ridden, sleepless night. The problem was, he needed a feasible solution to his problem – a bargaining chip as it were – before he approached her. Perhaps a little white lie as to _why_ he was going to town… although his stomach lurched unpleasantly at the thought of Narcissa catching him in the lie.

Of course, the guilt had been multiplied by the whole _spying on the Malfoys_ situation he now found himself in. While agreeing at the time had seemed like an excellent and cunning way of finally being in the loop, it did put him in something of an awkward position with his housemates. The unwelcome, but all too familiar, feeling of being a pawn in other people's games suddenly swept over him.

 _I will definitely need to do something about this._ Harry thought to himself, as he slowly rose out of bed.

Upon entering the kitchen, it was clear his attempt at sleeping in to avoid another confrontation had failed spectacularly. Both Malfoys had evidently had the same idea. Fortunately Narcissa appeared distracted by the mountains of grocery bags that were piled onto the kitchen counter.

"Morning, Mr. Potter. I trust you slept well." Narcissa said primly, not pausing in her shuffling around the kitchen.

"Ah… yes, yes thanks." He lied, eyeing the kitchen counter apprehensively. "I see the Owl Order you placed has arrived."

"Thank Goodness. I was worried we were all going to starve. I know Kreacher was doing as well as he could, but he hasn't had more than one mouth to feed in years." She seemed amicable, so Harry decided to take her lead and ignore the chastisement from the previous evening.

"Do you… er… need help?" He asked instead.

"No thanks, but I do appreciate the offer." The last part was said acidly, and clearly aimed at the blonde sitting in one corner of the kitchen clutching his coffee mug like it was his lifeline. Evidently, Draco had not extended an offer to help. He gave Harry a withering glare from across the room.

"Um…" Harry began, steeling himself. "I had sort of hoped to meet some friends this afternoon, in Diagon Alley. Perhaps, if I asked someone from The O… er… Ministry… to escort me home after work…" Narcissa had finally stopped her tidying and turned to Harry, her face softening.

"Thank you for letting me know Mr. Potter. I don't think bothering any of the Order members will be necessary." Harry's lack of poker face could not have been more evident as he blinked in shock. All his guilt from the night before came crashing down, as the pink elephant in the room proudly charged in.

"You… how do you…"

"Lucius, for all his faults, was not a stupid man. He was well aware they had reformed the Order and were having us followed. We have our sources, same as they. Do not worry – I have no intention of doing anything with the information." Her honesty momentarily threw Harry, and in a split second he made a decision that – for better or worse – changed everything.

"Mrs. Malfoy – I have known little of the Ministry's… er… actions… until recently. My decision to help you was independent of them. Although as you can imagine, they see it a little differently." Narcissa nodded, still with her characteristic soft smile, while out of the corner of his eye he could see Draco sit up in his chair. The pink elephant started its victory dance in the corner.

"I am not beholden to the Ministry, and will do what I believe is right." Harry stated with a confidence he did not feel. "Right now, I believe helping you is right. However, if we are to live under the same roof I have to be honest with you. I was asked to spy on the two of you due to your proximity to me. I need you to understand that I find the request deplorable, and this was never my intention." Malfoy Junior narrowed his eyes in immediate distrust, but Narcissa seemed unperturbed. Her reaction reassured Harry that his judgement may have been correct.

"However, I have my own reasons for wanting to be close to The Order. I will be meeting with them, and feeding them whatever innocuous information I can to keep them happy. I will not betray your privacy where possible, and I will give them no reason to come after you. That is, _not unless you give me one."_ Harry said the last bit pointedly, but the threat was clear.

"Very well, Mr. Potter. I can't pretend I like this, but so far you have trusted us when you have no reason to. It seems only fair we trust you." Narcissa said, as the elephant in the room disappeared with a puff of smoke.

 _And just like that_ , Harry thought to himself with grim satisfaction, _I'm no longer the pawn, but the puppet master_.

Harry's victory was short lived. Narcissa seemed mollified by his confession, but never had any intention of letting him wander around Diagon Alley by himself. It seemed that Draco had asked a similar favour minutes before Harry had joined them, and she had flatly refused.

Her compromise, as it turned out, was for the two of them to go _together._ While for her this was a perfect solution, from where Harry was standing this was possibly the worst outcome. Aside from being escorted by Voldemort himself, going anywhere in public with Draco Malfoy seemed like a poor idea.

Of course, glamour's were absolutely necessary to avoid another scandalous article. Apart from the obvious _rather be dead than be seen with Malfoy_ thing. And rearrangements had to be made, as Malfoy was due somewhere at 3pm, and Harry wasn't meeting Katie till 5pm. They'd agreed on 4pm, a ridiculous compromise as it meant they'd both had to reschedule.

They both had to be home before dark too, which seemed absurd to Harry as an eighteen year old. He still wasn't sure how he'd explain _that_ one to Katie. Narcissa had also clucked her tongue at the suggestion of taking Harry's bike, but stopped short of disallowing it.

Thus it was, at 3:30pm, Harry and his least favourite classmate found themselves outside Grimmauld Place, in front of Sirius's bike.

"I'm not holding onto you like a little girl Potter." Draco said scathingly, eyeing the bike apprehensively.

"Well it's either that or fall off." Harry said flatly.

"Okay Potter, here's the deal." Malfoy was desperately failing at hiding his fear, but seemed resigned to it. "If I go on this stupid bike of yours, I dictate the terms of tonight."

"The terms? I'm pretty sure that insane mother of yours has done that for you. Us."

"Not everything Potter. Quite obviously we need to be in close proximity to one another or she'll have a field day. And we need to go home together, which means we need to decide on a time."

"I'm all ears." Harry said drily.

"Here, take this." Malfoy shoved a drab old piece of paper into his hand.

"What the fuck is this Malfoy."

"It's two way parchment – surely you've used this before at Hogwarts?"

"No, I haven't. We weren't all privileged pure bloods."

"This shit costs a handful of knuts per pack Potter. The point is it allows you to write to each other in real time. The range is pretty good as long as we're in the same room."

"So you mean to tell me you and your thugs communicate using this paper at Hogwarts? I bet you cheat too…"

"Well obviously. What are you going to do about it, run to D… McGonagall?" Harry noticed his little slip up, and the way his eyes tightened at the near-mention, but tactfully kept his mouth shut.

"Whatever. So you want to communicate using this paper this afternoon – and you tell me when you're ready to leave?"

"Pretty much. Oh, and I told Pansy we'd meet at the Owlery. So you and your Gryffindorks can relocate to there." Harry's mouth twitched, but he managed to hold a straight face, not wanting to let the other boy know this is exactly where he had planned to be.

"And if I agree to your time and place, you'll get on the damn bike and stop complaining like a little girl?"

"Sure."

"Fine. We have a deal."

Harry loved flying, he really did. But flying with Malfoy was like shoving spikes underneath your nails while setting yourself on fire. He yelled the entire time – to the point where Harry had to cast a silencing charm on him – and crushed Harry's ribs so tight at one point he nearly lost control of the bike.

By the time they touched down in Diagon Alley, Harry was sore, freezing, and desperate to get away from the git. They had donned their glamours before getting on the bike, but double checked them now before stepping out into the still sunlit and busy street.

They walked a few minutes apart, as discussed, with Draco ahead (so he could get the better seat, of course). It was a few minutes before four when they approached the entrance to the pub, and Draco headed to a secluded booth on the left hand side without a backwards glance. Instinctively, Harry turned right, choosing the furthest booth as far away from him as possible. It was dingy and dark, but had the benefit of not being visible from anywhere in the pub.

A blonde witch approached his table, asking him for a drink order.

"Ah… I'm… er… waiting… for someone." Harry babbled.

"That's fine lovely, whenever you're ready. " She said with a smile and a casual wink, before heading off.

For several agonising minutes, Harry envisioned himself getting stood up by Katie, and then having to explain why he was by himself all evening to the staff and quite possible to Malfoy. He was hoping the other boy wouldn't notice who he was with, but the chance seemed unlikely.

"Hello Harry." A few minutes past four, Katie had come up to his table with a cheery smile. Harry tried not to look too relieved.

"Hi Katie." He said, ignoring the way his palms became awkwardly sweaty the minute she sat down opposite him. _This is just a catch up between friends Harry, get a grip._

"Have you ordered drinks yet?" She asked politely as she settled into the booth.

"Ah… no… I was waiting for you. What would you… AHH." Harry cried out as he felt a strange burning sensation in his pocket. He reached in and felt the piece of parchment Malfoy had given him.

"Everything okay?" Katie asked with a concerned look.

"Um… yeah… just bit of joke parchment sorry." Harry said through gritted teeth, as he pulled it out.

 _Katie Bell? And you thought I had low standards. Enjoy your Gryffindork date loser._ Harry grimaced at the unfamiliar cursive writing that could only belong to one person. He pulled out a quill and quickly wrote a snarky response.

 _Piss of Malfoy. You never said this paper burned arsehole._

"Sorry Katie… ignore that. So… uh… what would you like to drink?" He said as casually as he could.

"Just a butterbeer is fine, I'm easy enough." She said, still eyeing the parchment with some trepidation, but the writing disappeared before she could read it. Within minutes, Harry had motioned for the flirty blonde witch to return and take their orders. He tried to ignore the way she looked at him, convinced she could see through his glamour. The spell-book said only people who already knew him could see through it, but he really didn't trust it.

"So, it's good to see you again Harry." She said brightly. "Hope you pulled up okay after your party."

"Not as well as I'd like." He replied. "I sort of tried to drown my sorrows after the… er… incident." Katie laughed, and Harry was momentarily cheered. Perhaps he could be charming when he wasn't quite so nervous.

Another hour of fairly easy conversation passed – mostly about Katie and what she'd been up to for the past year - before their drinks ran out.

"Let me get this round Harry." Katie said casually, getting up from their table and walking up to the bar directly. Harry tried to stop her but she was as stubborn as Hermione. Within minutes she was back with a look of surprise on her face.

"So you'll never guess who's in one of the booths over there snogging like mad." She said conspiratorially.

"Actually, I'm pretty sure I can." Harry said grimly. "Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson."

"How did you know?" Katie said, a little put out she wasn't on top of the gossip.

"Well, the Malfoys…"

"Of course, Narcissa is working with you. Do you spend much time with Draco then?"

"Er… some." Harry felt it was best to not give out more information than necessary after his blab fest this morning.

"Still, pretty hilarious seeing the two of them hook up huh? She always fawned all over him."

"Er… really? I never noticed."

"Oh Harry, you've always been so clueless. She followed him around like a little puppy dog in your sixth year. He's probably just using her."

"Yeah, probably." Harry said, filing that piece of information away for later use. "How about you then? Anyone special?" He asked.

"Um, not at the moment no. With the Wasps tryouts I'm not really sure where I'll be next year so I don't want to get into anything serious." Once again Harry tried not to read too much into her body language, but she seemed to be looking at him funnily.

"Er… yeah I guess I know what you mean." He said, hoping he didn't sound as awkward as he felt. "Me too I suppose."

"Not that I wouldn't mind having a bit of fun." She said with a smile, giving him that funny look again. It was hard to ignore it now, she was clearly expecting him to do something.

An awkward silence descended, as Harry tried to rack his brains on what to do next. He was sitting opposite her, so even if he had the courage to lean over and kiss her he couldn't feasibly reach. Getting up and sitting next to her seemed like a stretch, but perhaps if he had an excuse…

"I may just run to the toilet if that's okay." He said stupidly.

"Sure." She said, a strange look on her face as Harry practically bolted out of there.

Minutes later, Harry found himself staring back at his reflection in the pub bathroom. _What the fuck am I supposed to do now?_ He groaned to himself, raking a hand through his hair which he only now realised he didn't make any effort with.

An awful, stupid idea popped into this head – but he quickly dismissed it as sheer insanity. Under no circumstances would he ask Draco Malfoy for help on a date. It was simply too absurd.

He would just have to brave this new world himself.

 _How's the date going Potter._

Harry had managed to sneak a look at the parchment when Katie had gone up to go to the bathroom. He could practically sense the sarcasm dripping from his words, as the blonde could probably guess it was going terribly from the amount of times Harry had excused himself to go to the bathroom.

His courage had failed him each time, forcing him to take his regular seat opposite Katie. They had fortunately continued with amicable, flirty, but still somewhat strained conversation.

 _Well at least I don't have whatever Pansy's got._ He tried to sound snarky in his reply.

 _At least I'm getting some action Potter. Katie looks bored out of her mind._ She must have walked past him, Harry realised, as the bathrooms were on their side of the pub.

 _Fuck of Malfoy. Go back to your date and just let me know when you're ready to leave._

 _Pansy's in the loo so I'd much rather annoy you. They're probably in there talking about how great I am at snogging._ Harry got the distinct feeling Malfoy may have had a few too many butterbeers, as the blonde tended to avoid unnecessary interaction with him at all cost. Harry decided to try and use the newfound verbosity to his advantage.

 _I highly doubt Katie would give her the time of day. She did tell me some interesting gossip though. Apparently Pansy's been fawning over you for years and you're just using her._

 _You are quite possibly the last person to figure that out, you total twat._

 _Wait, so you're admitting to using her?_

 _Of course. I have no interest in 'settling down' or whatever you Hufflepuff wannabees are calling it these days. Girls are coming back – keep an eye on the parchment Potter._

Harry shoved the parchment aside in disgust, frustrated at his trainwreck of a date which somehow seemed worse in light of Malfoys. The gods seemed to smile down on him though, as Katie returned and with a smoothness he envied, slid into the seat next to him.

 _All right Harry, no excuses now._

Harry turned towards Katie, one knee up on the seat.

"You okay for drinks?" He asked, seeing her glass was mostly full but needing a way to get the conversation rolling again.

"Perfect, thanks Harry. You're right about this place, it's much nicer than the Leaky." She turned towards him too, seeming pleased at the turn of events.

"Yeah, Hermione mentioned it to me and said it was worth checking out." Harry said with a smile, leaning in slightly.

"I'm glad you decided to meet up with me." Katie added, turning her own body so she was also facing him. The funny look was back in full force.

"Yeah, me too." Harry replied, leaning in just a tad further. It was embarrassing, and he'd never admit to it later, but Harry was fairly sure Katie made the final move. All of sudden her lips were on his, and they were kissing.

It was slightly awkward at first, but Harry managed to manoeuvre himself into a slightly better position - one hand resting casually on her knee, the other resting gently on the side of her face. Harry couldn't help but feel rather grateful to Ginny for teaching him a few tricks, as he deepened the kiss as smoothly as he could before pulling back for some air.

"Well, Potter." Katie said somewhat breathlessly. "I've been waiting for you to do that all afternoon, but at least you made it worth the wait." He grinned sheepishly, but took the compliment for what it was worth.

"It's been a while, sorry. Still a little rusty." He said, and she laughed in response. Harry felt his courage soar, and went in for round two with decidedly less hesitation.

They alternated between snogging and talking about inane things for the next little while, Harry all the while thoroughly pleased with the turn of events. It was about half an hour later when his hand reached out to grab his drink and accidently brushed the parchment, which was burning hot.

 _POTTER YOU IDIOT PAY ATTENTION!_

Clearly the boy had been trying to get his attention for a while. Reluctantly, Harry took out his quill.

"Sorry Katie, if I ignore this bad things will happen."

 _What's up Ferret?_

 _Pansy is boring me. Time to go._

 _What? I only…_ Harry was about to confess that he'd only just made his move, but then realised this was not something he wanted to share with the Slytherin. _I don't want to go yet._ He wrote instead.

 _Well tough. Besides, sunset is in an hour._

 _Fine. Give me 10 minutes._ Harry wrote with a huff, dropping the quill down and turning to Kaite.

"So, I have to go." He said bluntly, which judging by the look on her face was not the best thing to say.

"Oh, I… I thought perhaps… we could grab dinner." She looked hurt and not a little offended.

"Trust me, there's nothing that sounds better right now, but unfortunately I have no choice. I'm under something akin to house arrest at the moment…"

"Oh… well okay then." She gave him yet another odd look, different from the earlier ones.

"I'm off to Hogwarts for a few days on Friday… but perhaps we can see each other again next week if you're around?" Harry asked tentatively.

The goodbye wasn't as awkward as Harry had anticipated, much to his relief. Katie seemed to accept his explanation that he was 'under protection' and had agreed to meet again after her Quidditch trial, but before Harry returned to Hogwarts in three weeks. Malfoy dutifully stayed out of sight in his booth, having clearly already dismissed Pansy.

Harry had even managed to manoeuvre one last kiss as he bid Katie farewell outside the pub. He put as much effort into the kiss as he could muster, and was pleased with her dazed expression as she tottered away.

His sense of satisfaction didn't last long, as the blonde finally joined him outside the pub.

"Finally. Watching you two say goodbye was like watching first years try to flirt." He said scathingly.

"At least I'm not being a total dick to her." Harry snorted back.

"I'm pretty sure dick is exactly what she was after Potter." The boy replied back crudely, further evidence that he'd had perhaps one too many. Harry tried not to look too appalled or embarrassed by the comment, instead charging forward to where they'd parked the bike.

Harry successfully managed to avoid both Malfoy's for the next two days, hiding out in his study and getting some paperwork done for Hogwarts instead. Their official letters had arrived – for both of them, much to the Slytherin's surprise – and they contained a seemingly endless stream of bureaucracy.

It was clear Draco had not been expecting the invite, and was now unsure what to do with it. Harry spotted his letter discarded on the kitchen bench a number of times, opened but forgotten. He initially thought about raising it with the blonde, although exactly for what reason wasn't entirely clear.

Besides, he was far too preoccupied reading through the mounds of parchment himself. Being of age brought its own issues of course – release forms, proper code of conduct forms (no alcohol allowed on premises at any point – _unlikely_ ), and a very official looking one releasing the school and Ministry of any liability should he be injured during the course of his studies. That last one was definitely new, as it had Kingsley's signature at the bottom.

And then of course he had to choose his subjects – which were easy enough given his choice of profession. He wondered briefly who the new Defence teacher would be, but the thought brought back memories of Snape and Remus and it was a bit too painful to bear so he pushed it aside. He also noted a subject called Wizarding Law had been added as a compulsory subject to his curriculum, as McGonagall predicted. For some reason the thought did not sit well with him at all.

At 4:50pm on Friday afternoon, Harry was standing in front of the fireplace in the study waiting for the clock to move. To say he was excited was a small understatement – although there was also a tinge of apprehension at returning to the castle that had so many bad memories alongside the good.

He had packed a small backpack for the weekend, which he now clung to for fear of losing it during the Floo transport. Given he was going with Kingsley's permission, Narcissa hadn't raised any objections. Although truth be told he was a bit concerned at leaving the two of them alone at Grimmauld Place without him – particularly Malfoy Junior who seemed to have a penchant for anything that would piss Harry off.

Not nearly soon enough, the clock struck 5 and Harry stepped forward with his prepared handful of Floo powder.

" _Headmistress McGonagall's Office, Hogwarts."_ He shouted into the chimney, trying not to breathe it in like he had on previous occasions. With a familiar lurch he felt himself wooshing through the air. Unlike the trip to Diagon Alley from the Weasleys, this one seemed to last a lot longer. Harry feared he was about to throw up somewhere over the English countryside, but fortunately he slammed to a halt before things go too dire.

"Ah, Mr Potter. Right on time." McGonagall said with a smile. She was writing at her desk, and had looked up to see Harry slide through her chimney covered in soot.

"Headmistress. Good to see you." He said with a smile, brushing almost none of the dirt off as he stood in her office. He noted it looked markedly different as her office than it had as Dumbledore's, not least because there was now the portrait of the man himself hanging in the office alongside one of Snape. She had also removed most of his objects and knick knacks, and of course Fawkes' perch was no longer there.

"I thought perhaps you might want to see Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley." McGonagall said. "They're in what's left of the Gryffindor common room if you'd like to join them."

"Well, actually Headmistress, I thought perhaps we could have a quick chat first." McGonagall paused whatever she was writing to survey the dark haired boy in front of her.

"Of course Mr. Potter." She said, immediately putting down the quill. It was one of those moments where it struck Harry how much respect he really had acquired over the last year - that someone like McGonagall would stop _whatever_ she was doing to listen. Taking a seat, Harry got straight to business. The media was due to arrive shortly, and he knew they had little time to go over everything they needed to.

"I trust your office is a suitable for us to discuss… ah… delicate matters?" He asked first. She nodded, somewhat grimly.

"Yes, you have my word on that. It wasn't – the Ministry employees had come in here and added a few of their own… let's call them renovations… during reconstruction. But I have removed them all and replaced them with some charms of my own. Someone at the Ministry is getting very bored listening to Celestina Warbeck on repeat." She said that last with a small, self-satisfied smile. Haerrty grinned.

"Excellent, thanks. So, I should probably make you aware of the situation with the Malfoys..." He began, and understanding dawned on her face almost immediately. As he told the story, she nodded along, but showed little to no surprise. Only once did she interrupt to ask a single question.

"Has Mr. Malfoy been in touch at any point during these events?" She asked.

"Not that I'm aware of, although Mrs. Malfoy may have reached out to him without my knowing."

"Very well – I'm glad you've informed me of this Mr. Potter." She said with a smile.

"Well, that's not exactly the whole story…" He began, as he launched into the details of his meeting with Kingsley. He contemplated whether to divulge the follow up conversation with the Malfoys, but decided against it.

"I'm sure you realise I don't find this altogether that surprising." She said grimly.

"Well now that you mention it – it did ring a bell with what you were saying about the Ministry interfering at Hogwarts. Not sure if that's also The Order's doing, but either way the Ministry seems to be everywhere."

"I'm convinced it's all coming from inside The Order but I have no proof." McGonagall said, almost to herself. "They'd want to keep pre-existing Departments operating as usual, so all these changes would be happening inside this unit. It's a good way to make sure only people loyal to the Ministry are privy to the information."

"Who is they, exactly?" Harry asked.

"I'm afraid I don't know exactly Mr. Potter. It could be someone with an agenda inside the Ministry moving the pieces. On the other hand, we could be dealing with a 'proverbial' they – no single person could be driving these changes, it could simply be the result of a number of people in the Ministry fearful of what happened, happening again. There is a strong precedent for this kind of mob mentality after the Grindlewald incident."

"That's not the first time I've heard that mentioned. I think perhaps I may need to read a little more into it." Harry said thoughtfully, thinking back on his conversation with Molly.

"You know I'm always in support of the furthering of knowledge Mr. Potter." McGonagall said with a smile. "But in this case I think it may be more than just passingly useful. History can often teach us more than we realise." She sounded so much like Dumbledore in that moment Harry had to stop himself from getting too nostalgic.

"I'll take a look in the library while I'm here." Harry said.

"Excellent idea. Although you may also benefit from a first-hand account." She said pointedly, inclining her head towards Dumbledore's portrait, which was currently empty.

"Perhaps when he's next around you can send me an owl." Harry said, wishing he could've said no.

At that moment, a house elf popped into view.

"Headmistress, sorry to interrupt. The reporters from the prophet are in the hall asking for you and Mr. Potter." Harry grimaced, as McGonagall caught his eye with a similar pained expression.

"Yes, tell them we'll be right down." She said wearily.

 _This is not going to be pleasant._


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Seven

"Harry you are doing it completely wrong." Hermione had come up behind him, hands on hip, halfway through his attempt at putting up the curtains in the common room. He lowered his wand and glanced at her petulantly.

"No I'm not." It was a lie, of course, even he could tell the curtains were drooping slightly to one side and looking a little worse for wear. Clearly household charms were not his forte.

"Harry, I can see your wonky stitching from across the room. Leave this with me, go and help Dean instead." His pride wounded, Harry shuffled over to his old friend, who was currently levitating stones onto the fireplace.

After what must have been the most painful media interview in his life, during which Harry had said a lot but nothing of substance, Harry had joined some of the Gryffindor's in the common room to help with restorations. Some of the reporters had followed him to take more photos, but eventually they too retired as it became clear nothing exciting was going to happen.

"Need some help?" Harry asked Dean as he approached. The other boy glanced back at Hermione.

"She's a task master that one." He said, with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Here, help me move these stones over there. I can spell the grout on top."

"So this is what you guys have been up to then?" Harry asked, as he flicked his wand and started to move the stones as instructed.

"Not quite as glamorous as you'd imagined is it?" He said grimly. "Mostly it's been a lot of sweeping, vanishing and levitating. Thank Merlin for magic or we'd be here till next decade." While his words were animated, his tone was deadpan.

"At least you're with friends." Harry said brightly. The other boy gave him a strange, faraway look.

"What's left of them, anyway." He said, so softly Harry barely heard him, but he did. It was like a punch to the gut, and it left him momentarily breathless. With nothing left to say, they continued to work in silence.

Not long after, Seamus joined them in the Common Room to announce dinner. Apparently the Irish boy had been working to restore the kitchens – which were largely intact – and re-train the house elves, many of whom were too frightened to work after the battle.

"Blimey, took your time. I was starting to feel faint." Ron said loudly, abandoned his half-restored couch mid spell as he made his way to the exit. "Coming Harry?"

"Sure. Dean?"

"I'll catch up with you in a minute." He said, with the same tone as before.

"Okay… uh… sure." Harry waved an awkward farewell before joining Ron outside.

"So, Dean… he's a bit… off." Harry began as they started towards the Hall.

"Yeah, he's a moody bastard most days." Ron said bluntly. "A lot of people are, and it's hard to blame them. Everyone deals with it differently I suppose."

"And you, are you okay?" Harry asked, a little awkwardly, aware that they hadn't really had this conversation since the day after the battle when Harry had restored his wand.

"I guess. Seeing George is hard. I miss Fred, miss seeing them together. But this week's been easier than last week, which was easier than the one before. I guess that's how it works isn't it?" Harry was momentarily thrown by how thoughtful his friend had become. Not for the first time, he felt like he'd missed a significant period in Ron's life, as if he'd grown substantially during his time restoring the castle in ways that Harry simply couldn't stuck at Grimmauld Place by himself.

"And Hermione?"

"She cries a lot. Less now, but still every other day. It's hard to predict. Girls are weird."

"Well she's got you now, which is good." Harry said, surprised by how much he actually meant it.

"Yeah, about that Harry. I know we never really, you know, spoke about it… about us…"

"Ron, it's completely okay. I'm thrilled you guys are together." Harry said, meaning it less than he had last time.

"Well if we ever get weird, or whatever, just let us know. It's still, we're still friends you know. We're still the three of us."

"I know, but now it's you and her as well, and that's important." Harry said, trying to convince himself of this conversation more than anything.

"Speaking of… is there a 'you and someone else' now? I mean I know Ginny is in the past…" Ron added, awkwardly. Not for the first time his ex-girlfriend was making things a little strained between them. It only reinforced Harry's opinion that he'd made the right decision.

"I'm okay being just me for now. Not looking for anything serious at the moment." Harry used the line he'd used on Katie and it seemed to work, at Ron accepted it.

"I think that's a good idea." Ron nodded, as they reached the large oak doors leading to the Great Hall. The red head opened one, motioning for Harry to go first. "Go on then. It's you they want to see." Bracing himself, Harry strolled through the doors.

-HP-

Dinner had been an immensely stressful affair. Between the remaining reporters and the fawning students he had barely been able to get a mouthful in. Harry had been incredibly grateful when Hermione had appeared at his side with a plate of chips, which he could nibble on while standing.

It was not long before, with the help of Neville and Ron, he made his excuses and retired to the Slytherin dorms, where he had been assigned a bed. Only half the Gryffindor rooms were habitable, and they'd been reserved for the girls.

It was the weirdest experience walking into the green-tinged Common Room for the second time in his life. An influx of memories assaulted him as he recalled the Polyjuice incident, and suspecting Malfoy of being the Slytherin Heir. How far away and innocent it all seemed - back then hating and suspecting the blonde had been so easy in comparison to… whatever was happening now.

"Harry, the bed on the end is yours." Neville indicated. Harry nodded in response, spying his backpack on top of the covers. With a sigh, he sat on the edge and began to undress as the other boys did the same. It wasn't long before he heard the sounds of Ron's snoring, as they all drifted off to sleep. Harry envied them something fierce. They were obviously used to sleeping in these dungeons by now, but Harry could not have felt more claustrophobic. He longed for his old window by his bed in the Gryffindor Common Room, where he could gaze out when he was feeling restless.

Instead, he made his way over to the fireplace, where a low fire was burning but not emitting heat. As it was still summer, the heat was unnecessary but the light was presumably retained so Slytherins could see at night.

"Tough day?" Neville whispered into the silence, taking a seat next to Harry by the strangely cold fire. He had obviously spotted that Harry was still awake.

"Is there another kind?" Harry replied softly, more to himself than anyone else. Without a word, Neville reached into this pocket and pulled out a handful of Chocolate Frogs and a flask of something that was definitely not pumpkin juice. With a grateful look, Harry reached for a Frog and the flask.

"You are a lifesaver Neville, as always."

"I keep them on hand for me, mostly." The other boy admitted, in a way that made it clear he hadn't really told anyone else about this. Harry decided then and there that the honesty was worth repaying.

"Me too actually. Well, minus Chocolate Frogs." Harry said as took a swig of the flask. It was, as expected, Firewhiskey, and it went down a treat. He'd been struggling to hide his stash with Narcissa and Draco in the house, afraid of something he couldn't quite put his finger on. Them finding out, judging him, staring at him with that look of pity in their eyes that he was getting tired of seeing in everyone else.

"How have you been Harry?" Neville asked, reaching for the flask and taking his own solid drink. It was odd to see the previously self-conscious, nervous boy act with such confidence. It made Harry glad somehow, to know some things had changed for the better.

"Fine, I suppose. Most days I don't really know what to feel."

"I think I know what you mean." Neville said, passing the flask back. "There's no handbook for any of this though, is there?"

"Well there should be. This isn't the first time a Dark Wizard has tried to mess things up and nearly accomplished it." Harry said, his thoughts on Grindlewald. He really needed to get to the library first thing tomorrow.

"You'd think Wizardkind would learn. I suppose it's hard to pass that sort of thing on to your kids."

"What do you mean?" Another swig, before Harry passed the flask back.

"Well, think about what you'd tell your own kids about what happened. I mean, I'm so grateful to be alive, to be facing a free world. I don't want to tell my kids they have to have… what was it that Moody used to say… CONSTANT VIGILIANCE." Neville temporarily forgot himself, saying the last line quite loudly into the empty dorm. Unsurprisingly, the other three boys slept on. Harry smiled, glancing over his should before turning back to the boy beside him.

"True. But then, our parent's war became ours didn't it? You can't protect people from what's out there. You have to arm them and hope for the best." Harry said pensively, half distracted by the low burning fire. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Neville take a deep sigh.

"I'm worried that's not the path we're heading down. Gran's been, well, muttering. She's been saying the Ministry is taking things a bit far, in taking back control."

"I think you Gran was always a smart woman." Harry said cryptically, risking a meaningful glance at Neville. The look was returned with equal fervour, and in that moment Harry mentally ticked off Neville as a potential ally. While they couldn't continue the conversation there, for fear of any unwanted spells, it was clearly a conversation that warranted continuing at another time.

"Well, I better get to bed. Another big day of housekeeping." Neville said, waving his hand at the castle in general as he stood up. With a nod, Harry bade him goodnight, but made no move to go to sleep himself. He had a lot to ponder over.

-HP-

Harry rose early the next day, in an attempt to have breakfast and hit the library before the crowds. His plan was largely working, with only a few people in the Hall when he walked in, however an owl interrupted his morning routine.

 _The portrait is no longer empty, come when you can. MG_

Understanding immediately, Harry felt his stomach stink. This was certainly not a conversation he wanted to have, but could no longer put off.

As he walked in to McGonagall's office half an hour later, Harry was surprised to see not only Dumbledore but Snape in his portrait.

"Morning Harry." McGonagall said primly, from her seat behind her desk. "Albus though it might be prudent to summon Severus for this conversation as well, I hope that's okay." She gave him a look, one that clearly said _I had no choice._ Harry just nodded – it would be no harder with both of them than it would be with just one. "Remember, they're not real. They are… shadows. Imitations of their actual selves. They will not feel, not react the same way we would. Stick to facts."

"Okay, thanks for that." He said, before turning to the portraits. "Headmaster. Professor. I suppose you've been filled in on what's happening."

"Yes, Harry. Minerva has briefed us." Dumbledore said, smiling down at him.

"And I suppose you know what I'm here to ask you."

"Only you know what you want to ask Harry." The man was as infuriatingly cryptic as he was in life, and Harry struggled to contain his anger. Clearly there were some unresolved issues here, but now was not the time.

"I want to understand, what happened, when Grindlewald rose to power – but more importantly what happened afterwards. How the Ministry reacted, things like that."

"I hardly need to be here for this Albus…" The portrait of Snape said drily, too similar to his look-alike to not make Harry shiver just a little.

"I believe you may prove useful yet Severus. Please stay." Dumbledore asked – not a trace of pleading in his voice. He didn't need to, Snape didn't raise the objection again. "Now Harry, you must understand – Grindelwald's rise to power was… different. He was a Dark Wizard, yes, but he had compassion, remorse. He was not a madman, just viciously intelligent and convinced he could do a better job of running Wizard-kind than the Ministries. As you know, things aren't exactly perfect the way they are. Grindlewald – and yes I daresay even I – dreamt of a world where Wizards could walk freely among Muggles, share our secrets, help them, heal them of afflictions they could not mend themselves. It was a beautiful dream, but to make it a reality Grindlewald needed to take over, and that's where things got out of control."

For a moment, Dumbledore's voice broke. It took several moments for Harry to remember he was talking to a portrait, and this shadow of Dumbledore shouldn't have had feelings at all. Clearly, what happened with Grindlewald had affected him so deeply it had carried through even to his portrait.

"When I finally caught up with him, he had an army of his own – not quite as large as Voldemort – but an army nonetheless. He was close to taking over the Ministry here, and people were frightened. When he was defeated, the Ministry was terribly fearful it would happen again, with a very different outcome. In the aftermath, the Ministry began passing new laws to try to better monitor powerful wizards. You may not know, but the tracking spells they place on you as an infant… those spells can also detect your levels of magic. It's a very imprecise magic of course – as it only detects the level of magic you actually use, rather than the level of magic you're capable of. That's where it failed with Voldemort - as an isolated orphan, he would not display the full extent of his power until long after the underage spell was lifted."

Dumbledore paused, seemingly to give Harry the opportunity to divulge the information.

"So, the Ministry started trying to detect powerful wizards early on?" Harry clarified, trying to piece together the relevant bits from Dumbledore's tale.

"Of course. A strategy of prevention – of nurturing powerful wizards rather than isolating them – seemed best. Separately, of course, the Ministry also cracked down on Dark Creatures and Dark Magic. The assumption was that this was more likely to breed dark intentions, so curbing these forces would curb the darkness itself. Little did the Ministry know that Darkness hides where you least expect it."

"Who led the changes in the Ministry? This couldn't have happened by itself."

"Fear is a terrible motivator Harry. I wish I could tell you it was one person, but in some ways it was the whole Ministry who was responsible. It was society as a whole. But, even so, there is always a leader. Someone charismatic on the inside who takes hold of the fear and uses it to their advantage. Spencer-Moon – the Minister at the time – was the source of the fear in our days. He had removed his predecessor, Fawly, on the basis he wasn't doing enough, and gained significant popularity as a result."

"Does this mean Kingsley is likely the source of what's happening now?"

"I doubt it. This type of change doesn't need to be driven from the top. I wouldn't rule Kingsley out, but I would look at others who are senior in the New Order. They could be manipulating Kingsley without his knowledge."

"How… what do I do even when I work out who is behind it? How do I fight fear?"

"That, Harry, is a powerful question and the right one to ask. Severus, perhaps you can assist here?" The old potion's Professor pursued his lips, but responded nonetheless.

"Potter." He began, seemingly choking on the word. Clearly his dislike of Harry was also powerful enough to extend beyond the grave.

"Snape." Harry said, equally as distastefully. After everything that had happened, Harry did not need to like the man to respect him.

"Well you've managed to make a mess of things, as usual."

"This is hardly my doing Snape." Harry hissed.

"Whatever you've been through, your fight is only just beginning. Vanquishing a Dark Lord is all well and good… " Harry scoffed at how dismissive the Professor was of his victory. "But winning hearts and minds is another battle altogether."

"So what do I need to do?"

"You must be the voice of reason, you must stand up for those who cannot fend for themselves. It will make you unpopular, in the short term, but as the Ministry becomes more fanatical the people must have somewhere else to turn. This is what gave Voldemort the power and influence he needed."

"Stick up for the underdog. That's really your advice?"

"What did you expect Potter? You could fire a few more Expelliarmus curses around and that would be that?" The comment hit a little too close to home, so Harry didn't trust himself to rise to the bait.

"How do I do this?"

"Gather those around you who are loyal, and who are also apprehensive about… these developments. Then use the media to your advantage, and keep your ear to the ground. If you see examples of the Ministry – or anyone – behaving badly, then speak out. Make it public."

"This sounds… this sounds a lot like what Voldemort did." Harry said, tentatively, eyeballing Snape distrustfully.

"Not all fame and Quidditch then are you Potter?" His familiar sneer was back. "That's right - it is similar. But Voldemort fought the Ministry's hate and fear campaign with more hate and fear. You need to offer something else."

"So… the situation with the Malfoys…" Harry saw Snape's eyes tighten at the mention of his old friends. "I made the right call then." He was more surprised at this than anything else – that a decision he had been doubting was revealing itself as the correct one.

"Right and wrong is very subjective Harry. I believe you have done the right thing, but others may not think so." Dumbledore said diplomatically.

"Anything else I should know?" Harry asked of both of them.

"We are always here, if you need us Harry. Think over what we have discussed and you can always come back." Dumbledore said with a smile.

Somehow, this didn't sound as reassuring as Harry would've liked.

-HP-

Harry's afternoon ended up being a pointless and fruitless exercise.

The first warning signs appeared when Harry tried to go the library, but was told he needed permission from the Headmaster. Returning later with a signed piece of parchment from McGonagall, he was then told by Pomfrey that several books had been removed, and those that remained couldn't leave the library.

It wasn't just books on Dark Magic either. Harry's perusal revealed that a lot of books written by historians seemed to have disappeared as well, leaving behind only official looking publications from the Ministry. He found several recounts on Grindlewald, but they were very dry and contained nothing relevant on the aftermath.

Disappointed, Harry left for lunch with a few pieces of transcribed parchment. There was only one person who could help with a prickly research problem like this one.

-HP-

"I've had similar problems with the books here in the library." Hermione said when he caught up with her at lunch. "That's why I borrowed the ones from Grimmauld Place." Having forgotten about this initial suspicions, Harry tried his luck once more.

"Why did you need those books anyway? Malfoy was saying you were after the Black family history books?"

"Just some research, nothing in particular." Hermione replied, almost too quickly. Harry gave her a pointed look.

"Are you going to tell me at some point?" He knew trying to push it further wasn't going to get him anywhere.

"Maybe. I'll see. I'm close."

"Close to telling me or close to an answer?"

"Uh… both?" She said weakly.

"Fine, keep your secrets. But Malfoy won't drop it like I did, just so you know."

"Damn that git. I can deal with him." She said, more to herself.

"So, the books? How do I find out more about Grindlewald?"

"Well your library won't be so useful this time. I think the books you're after will be in the Ministry. All the… er… confiscated items… are housed there."

"Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?"

"Well the alternative would be to ask for them. But I don't think that's going to end well."

"Hmm… so breaking into the Ministry again? I thought I was done with this." Harry said, knowing this was a terrible idea already.

"Well you won't have to break into the Ministry. You just have to… you know… get lost… and then end up in the Department of Mysteries."

"Is it just me, or are your ideas getting worse?"

"Definitely getting worse. You don't even know the half of it." She said, a little wild eyed. Harry opened his mouth to ask what she meant, but then thought better of it.

 _One mystery at a time Harry. One mystery at a time._

-HP-

Much to his relief, the rest of Harry's weekend was far more relaxing. He spent it mostly in Gryffindor, making the last few touches to the Common Room. By the time Sunday evening rolled around, all but the boy's dormitories had been restored.

"We'll work on those next week." Ron said, as they stood at the entrance to McGonagall's office bidding Harry farewell. "Don't stress."

"Yeah, I just feel like there's still so much to do. So many things look… different."

"It won't ever be the same Harry, you know that." Hermione said, placing a hand on his shoulder and giving it a squeeze. Harry smiled, placing his hand over hers in gratitude. He knew she was trying to be supportive, but it was doing little to lift his spirits. In reality, a part of him was just upset to be leaving. The prospect of returning to that old house full of Malfoys was a grim prospect indeed.

"I know. Good luck with the rest of it, anyway."

"We'll see you in three weeks back at school. Have you filled in your forms?" Hermione asked, letting her hand drop.

"Yes I gave them all to McGongall earlier today."

"Do you know if the blonde git is coming back?" Ron asked. Harry frowned.

"I actually don't know. His forms were on the counter when I left."

"Yeah well good riddance I say." Ron huffed, slinging an arm around Hermione's shoulder.

"Ron!" Hermione swatted at him. To his horror, Harry found himself sharing her outrage. After everything he'd heard about Grindlewald, and what Snape had said about harbouring distrust – the path before him had become very clear indeed. And supporting Malfoy, as distasteful as it was, seemed to be part of it.

"She's right Ron. He needs to come back." Harry said grimly. Ron visibly blanched in shock.

"He what? Why on earth do we want that?"

"If he doesn't come back he'll never return to wizarding society. He needs to finish school, show everyone he's not going anywhere. And if he does, others will too."

"Really though? More Slytherins?" Ron asked distastefully.

"Yes Ron, more Slytherins. I think you'll find we will have more to do with them this year than you'd like."

"I sure hope you know what you're doing Harry." Ron said.

 _Not as much as I do._ Harry thought to himself.

-HP-

Scaring the life out of Draco as he came sweeping through the lounge room chimney at Grimmauld Place definitely lifted Harry's spirits. The blonde was so frightened by his sudden appearance he had jumped off the couch, spilling his drink in the process.

"Potter you moron. You can't even floo properly without bungling it up." Draco said through gritted teeth, dripping in pumpkin juice. He was wearing Harry's jeans and t-shirt again, and looked so un-Malfoy like Harry was temporarily thrown.

"Um… sorry." He said, dropping his backpack, trying in vain not to grin at the sight. "Good to know you haven't burned down the place." He added unhelpfully.

"I'll keep that in mind for next time." Draco said nastily, turning to leave.

"Um, wait. Malfoy I wanted to ask you…" To his surprise, the boy paused, but didn't turn around. "Are you… you're coming back to Hogwarts right?"

The silence was so immense it stretched between them like wire. Agonisingly slowly, Malfoy turned to face Harry.

"What's it to you?" It wasn't rude, but it certainly wasn't nice either.

"Well you're my housemate, for one."

"So?"

"Look Malfoy, I just think… I think you should come back."

"So this is about you sticking your nose where it doesn't belong then."

"Do you have to be such a dick Malfoy?" Harry said furiously.

"It's just easier around you." Draco shrugged. "But if you're going to get yourself in a tiff, then yes, I do intend to go back. Not for you, but because it's what mother wants." Harry nodded, content for now.

"Good." He said. Malfoy turned to go, but then paused once more.

"So how's the castle?" He asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

"Getting better, day by day. Hermione says it won't ever be the same, but they've done a good job." Harry had been tempted by a snarky response but thought better of it.

"Good."

"The Slytherin dorms are back, at least. That's where they put us."

"You stayed in the Slytherin dorms?"

"Well the Gryffindor one's are still a bit of a mess."

"So you… you went into the Slytherin Common Room?" Malfoy had a strange look on his face.

"Well, yeah. You sort of have to, to get to the dorms."

"You're not supposed to go in there." He said lamely.

"Well I think circumstances are a little unusual. Besides, it's not the first…" Harry realised his mistake a second too late.

"You've been in our dorms before?" Malfoy asked, wide-eyed. _Surely 6 years is long enough for him to forgive me._ Harry thought desperately.

"Well, there was that time I thought you were the Heir of Slytherin and we polyjuiced into Crabbe and Goyle to ask you." Another painful, tight silence. Harry was almost enjoying the look on Malfoys faced as he slowly absorbed the information.

"You… who… who's we?" He eventually found his voice.

"Ron and I."

"You really did get away with anything and everything in school didn't you?" Draco eventually sneered, seemingly out of anything else to say.

"So did you, towards the end." Harry bit back.

"I just tried to survive Potter. You went out of your way to cause trouble."

"So you patrolled for Umbridge in fifth year to survive? Let the Death Eaters in sixth year to survive? Tortured students in…"

"Alright Potter." Draco interrupted him, his face flushing at the unwelcome memories. "No need to take a trip down memory lane. We both had our moments."

"Yes we did." Harry said grimly. He had not enjoyed that conversation any more than Malfoy had. With a huff, Malfoy stormed out, leaving Harry standing in the living room feeling like that encounter could've gone a lot better than it had.

 _Support the Malfoys. Oppose the Ministry. Break into the Department of Mysteries. Find out whatever Hermione is up to._

This was already shaping up to be a truly godawful year.


	9. Chapter 9

-A/N- Yikes, sorry for the delay - life has been mental. Hope you enjoy… Harry finally gets some action and Malfoy continues to be everyone's favourite git.

Once again, not H/D. Not Harry/Katie either – at least not in the long term. I wonder who will finally win the Boy Wonder's heart? Chapter Nine

Organising a second date – or whatever it was – with Katie turned into an immensely stressful affair. Narcissa had a knack for laying down the law in a way that made it seem like she wasn't actually demanding anything of you, just sort of _politely requesting._ Politely requesting, but with dire consequences if you saw fit to disobey. Harry still felt the proverbial knife wound from their encounter the other night, and was not going to risk that again.

So it was that Harry now found himself outside the Slytherin's door, hand poised to knock, contemplating all the ways this could end badly. If venturing out by himself wasn't an option – and under no circumstances was he going to allow himself to be chaperoned by Narcissa – then all that remained was to ask Draco when he was going to next see Pansy, and tag along. It was a car crash waiting to happen, but in true Gryffindor style it didn't stop him from boldly knocking.

"What." Malfoy had barely opened the door as he said it, obviously well aware of who it was.

"I want to go out again." Harry skipped the pleasantries – knowing the less time he spent here the more likely he'd make it out alive.

"Sorry Potty, I don't swing that way." The blonde smirked, an expression so similar to the one the git used to wear while at Hogwarts that Harry had a momentary flashback.

"Don't be a prick. I want to see Katie again. I'm sure you want to see your slu…girlfriend Pansy." Narrowed blue eyes made Harry change tact halfway through his sentence. _Don't antagonise. Not helping._

"Say I did." Draco said after a momentary pause. "Where were you thinking?"

"Katie's in London, so literally anywhere in town." Harry said flatly, wondering if this was a bad idea. Surely the idiot wouldn't take them somewhere too unseemly if he had to take Pansy there as well?

"Fine. Tell your Gryffindork that you'll meet her at the Grand Merlin at 1 o'clock tomorrow afternoon."

"What's the Grand Merlin?" Harry asked with some trepidation.

"A hotel in town – it has a bar and restaurant on the ground floor. It's where Pansy is staying with her mum while their house gets inspected by the Ministry." Harry fought the urge to comment, only nodding in agreement.

"Okay. We have to be home by sundown according to…"

"Mother, yes, I know Potter. I've been her son for nearly 20 years now, I get it."

"Has she always been so…" Having got what he wanted, Harry tried for some small talk.

"Yes. Now go away." And with that, the door was slammed in his face without ceremony. With a huff, Harry stormed off, determined to get back at the git for being such an arse.

-HP-

As it turned out the Grand Merlin was connected by Floo to where Katie was staying, so the afternoon came together rather conveniently. Or, as convenient as it could when you were burdened with a selfish blonde prat to babysit.

The unlikely pair parked the motorbike down a small laneway right next to the hotel, Harry placing a quick charm on the bike to lock it and another to hide it from the wandering eyes of any passers-by. He had spent the better part of the morning polishing the metal, so the bike now gleamed as brightly as if it were new, and he wasn't going to take any chances.

"Rules are the same as last time. Keep an eye on the parchment…" The blonde thrust a familiar piece of faded parchment into this hands. "…And we go when I'm ready."

"Fine." Harry huffed, tucking the parchment in the outside pocket of his jacket to avoid another painful burn. He had managed to find one of his godfather's leather jackets, and after a few _scourgify's_ it was now looking as new as the bike and quite fetching on the young Gryffindor.

Malfoy marched off in the direction of the hotel without another word, leaving Harry to wait a few minutes in the laneway before he too headed down the street. The hotel – which Malfoy had pointed out to him on their flight down – was bewitched to appear as a decrepit looking building at the corner of a Y-intersection. He had pulled a face at the sight of it, but the blonde had just scoffed.

"Classeless to the end Potter." He had sneered. "Only the wealthiest wizards stay here."

Wooden slats barred the front door, a clear sign to Muggles that the building was un-used and unoccupied. As instructed, Harry headed to the left, where a single faded door blended into the façade of the building. With a gentle nudge, Harry stepped inside.

The first thing he noticed was the abrupt temperature change. The hot July air outside gave way to a cool, temperate climate – likely the result of a spell. The front hall he now found himself in – larger than the space allowed - was drenched in marble, creating a loud echo as the eclectic collection of men and women clacked across its floors. A large chandelier was the centrepiece of the atrium, framing the two archways which led further into the building.

As he walked through, Harry spotted the Slytherin at the lifts on his right, tapping his foot impatiently. It appeared Malfoy was probably going to fetch Pansy in her room and then head down for a drink.

A few minutes early, Harry weaved his way past the lifts, past the chandelier, and through to a comfortable looking chamber towards the back that supposedly housed the bar. A stiff looking Maitre D' in elegant black robes stood at the entrance, and as Harry approached he could see the condescending smile grace the man's lips. Not for the first or last time, Harry felt a swell of vindication for his normally unwanted fame.

"I'm afraid we are fully booked, sir." The man said before Harry had even halted his progress. With a grim sense of satisfaction, he dropped his glamour.

"I was hoping you could squeeze two more people in." Harry said, deadpan, enjoying the slow tide of emotions overtake the man's face.

"Ah… I… Mr… Potter. Of course… let me… come through… sir."

So it was that Katie found him some minutes later, seated at a private table near a makeshift window bewitched to show the Parisian landscape outside. Harry personally thought it was a bit tacky, but then he was in no position to judge. His leather jacket and jeans were painfully out of place amongst the soft dark woods and velvets of the bar, which Malfoy had been quick to mention once it was too late to go back and change.

Katie had obviously been well aware of exactly what sort of place the Grand Merlin was, because she was dressed quite trimly in flattering champagne coloured robes. Harry rose as she approached, a slightly sheepish grin on his face as he gestured to his outfit.

"I… err… didn't get the memo about this place." He said, before remembering to add... "You though... you look great."

"Thanks Harry. I think the bad boy look suits you." She gave him a flirty wink and, much to his relief, leaned across to kiss him before sitting down. The ice now broken, Harry took this as a cue to sit next to her, willing his thumping heart to quiet down.

"A drink? I don't think this is the sort of place that would serve us butter beer though…" He added unhelpfully. Giving him an exasperated sort of look, she promptly plucked the drinks menu out of his hand.

"Don't worry, I can order for us." Feeling increasingly more out of place, and cursing the Slytherin idiot for choosing what was obviously an inappropriate venue to snog someone, Harry just nodded.

Fortunately things started to improve once their drinks arrived (two goblets of Giant wine) and soon they were chatting amicably. Every so often a comfortable silence would descend and Harry would lean over and give her a soft kiss, taking the opportunity to refine his technique. Draco had yet to appear, but Harry assumed he'd possibly snuck in when he wasn't looking and was seated at another private table.

Harry personally thought things were going rather well – that is – until Katie dropped her awkward bomb.

"So, are you going to invite me up to you room at some point?" She asked, with a flirtatious smile. It took all of Harry's effort not to let the panic show on his face, as several things started to finally fall into place.

 _Malfoy was not going to come down._

 _He was staying upstairs with Pansy to do… unmentionable things._

 _Katie assumed they were here to do the same._

 _Fuck._

At this point, Harry's groin took a firm hold of the wheel, as his brain promptly exited the building.

"Of course." He said, much more smoothly than he felt. "Just… uh... let me go to the bathroom, grab the bill, and then we'll head up?" Not for the first time Harry cheered for his quick thinking, a trait obviously acquired through time spent with Hermione. The bathrooms were in the lobby, where if he was lucky he could sneakily acquire a room with reasonable haste and hope to Merlin she didn't spot him.

Because under no circumstances was he _not_ going to follow through. Not after months of empty wank sessions at Grimmauld Place to pass the time and his sum total of zero sexual experience.

-HP-

By some small miracle, the plan went off without a hitch. The receptionist at the lobby was marginally unhelpful, as she asked him a number of questions about what kind of room he wanted despite Harry's insistence that he _didn't give a damn._ Eventually, what could only be the Manager of the hotel came waddling over and – upon recognising Harry – organised a room for him in record time and even added the bar tab to his room bill.

"Took a while – everything okay?" Katie asked, as he returned 10 minutes later and slightly breathless.

"All good." Harry said as he pulled himself together, his previously thumping heart now threatening to explode out of his chest. "Shall we?"

Fortunately Harry had received exceedingly good directions, so he was able to navigate to the room without making it look like it was his first time. At the door, an ornate silver knocker asked him for his password, which he had been provided downstairs ( _Hippogriff)_ before letting them in.

"Gorgeous rooms." Katie said as she walked in, and Harry had to agree that he was probably spending a fair amount of Galleons on this whole ridiculous exercise.

 _Totally worth it._ He thought grimly, as he took in the room details and attempted to familiarise himself. Having stayed in the Leaky Cauldron before, Harry was familiar with the basics of wizarding hotels - softly glowing lamps in the place of electric lights, four poster beds that seemed all the rage amongst wizards, and in the place of a mini-bar a tiny, revolving stand of drinks kept permanently cool by a charm.

It was to this stand that he headed now, spotting a bottle of Giant wine that was looking like his best friend.

"Another glass?" He offered. Katie grinned at him as she nodded, taking the opportunity to ditch her robes to reveal a simple yet elegant dress in deep purple. It hugged her figure nicely, and for the first time Harry truly appreciated how fit she really was. Generous curves on her hips and breasts – exaggerated by the cut of the dress – and a thin waist that was just decidedly female. He couldn't help but compare to Ginny, who was much thinner essentially everywhere and hence had fewer curves.

Clutching his wine like it was his lifeline, Harry took a rather ungainly swig as he passed Katie hers. She had the same look on her face as she had downstairs when she'd plucked the menu out of his hands – exasperated, amused, coupled with something akin to fondness.

"Oh Harry. There's no need to freak out." He almost spit his wine out.

"I'm not… it's… I'm…"

"I know, it's okay. You've not done this before." He'd half opened his mouth to protest before she raised her hand to his lips, silencing him in more ways than one. "Girls… talk." She added with a soft almost devious smirk that made him think of Malfoy. Fortunately thoughts of the blonde git were off-putting enough that his heart rate – and other parts of his anatomy – calmed down a bit.

"Oh? What do… what have the girls said about me then?" Harry asked, clever enough to at least piece together who she was referring to. A number of the Hogwarts Quidditch girls – including Ginny and Cho – had remained in touch even after many of them had left. It could only be this same group she was referring to now.

"Oh, well, you know. Given everything that happened to you it's only natural that you'd be a tad… inexperienced." She breathed that last word into his lips, and Harry found himself frozen in anticipation. "We had bets going on exactly _how_ inexperienced you were, and it seems I've won."

"You… you did? And what was your bet then?" Most rational thought had left his brain by this point, as Katie's lips continued to ghost over his, her hands curling around his neck to pull him even closer. Somehow their wines had ended up on the table, and Harry took advantage of his free hands to reach around her waist.

"Tell me Harry, have you ever seen a girl naked?" An involuntary groan escaped his lips at that point, and she took advantage of his moment of weakness to finally close the gap and kiss him. It was intense and passionate, far more so than any of their previous ones.

Swiftly, Katie removed the jacket from his shoulders, leaving him in his plain black t-shirt. She wasted no time in going in for round two, this time sliding her hands up under his shirt to grasp at skin, eliciting another groan from the puddle of mess previously known as Harry.

All too soon, Harry found himself being guided towards the bed as Katie proceeded to pull his t-shirt off as well. She gave him a feral grin as she eyed his physique, something which Harry had always been a little conscious of. He had filled out in the weeks following the war, but he was still a tad on the skinny side.

Katie did not seem to mind, as she pushed him back onto the bed and proceeded to attack his neck and chest with open mouthed kisses that his body really, _really_ liked. Harry's pants grew impossibly tighter, and he attempted to adjust himself discretely with little success.

"Feeling a little cramped down there Harry?" The Cheshire grin was back, and Harry found it did wonderful things to this arousal. Almost as if in slow motion, Harry watched as she crawled down the length of his body and proceeded to remove his shoes and socks. Job done, she stood at the end of the bed as she toed off her own shoes and reached behind her back.

His body now on auto pilot, Harry sat up on his elbows to watch as she slid the zipper down her back and let the dress fall to the floor. Underneath she wore a matching set of purple, lacy underwear that set Harry's heart positively racing. In truth, he _hadn't_ actually seen a woman naked before – not in the flesh at least. He'd seen some of the magazines the boys kept in the dorm, and he'd had some fairly heated sessions with Ginny, but it was all distinctly _over the clothes_ as it were.

Little could have prepared him for the sight of Katie, deliciously dark skin and curves in all the right places, standing before him at the end of the bed. Looking almost predatory, she crawled back onto the bed and positioned herself over him.

The skin on skin contact was almost too much. He knew he should take charge at some point, but Harry could barely bring himself to do anything more than grasp at her. Steeling himself, Harry took some deep breaths and thought of Dementors. A little twisted, but the vicious creatures did the job as he got his breathing – and the rest of his body – under control.

 _Get a grip Potter. Whatever you do, don't fuck this up._

-HP-

To no one's surprise, the whole thing was over rather quickly. Not that Katie seemed to mind – if anything she sensed the poor boys discomfort and made sure she didn't linger too long on foreplay. As they lay in the bed afterwards, heart rates recovering, she turned her gloriously naked body towards him.

"Well, Harry, I think for your first time you should be pretty proud of yourself."

The Gryffindor, still trying to catch his breath, could only grin in response. He was trying not to dwell too deeply on the enormity of what happened, instead just enjoying the moment and post-orgasm glow.

"I've never really… done… any of it you know." He eventually said. "Guess you won the bet on my inexperience."

"I certainly did. But don't worry, you'll only get better with practice." She added with her own grin. "I must say it's always been a bit of a fantasy of mine to score the famous Harry Potter, even if we did know each other at school."

"It was my pleasure." Harry replied, somewhat pleased he hadn't bungled things up entirely. As the fog that had settled around his brain cleared, it occurred to him he should probably check on Malfoy. With a sigh, he stood up and plucked his leather jacket from the pile of clothes, pulling out the parchment. He was pleased to see the parchment was blank and cool, indicating no recent messages had come through.

"Isn't that the same joke parchment you had last time?" Katie asked, too observant for her own good. Harry considered lying, but opted for a half truth.

"It's actually two way parchment. I have to carry it as a safety thing – not technically supposed to be wandering around London myself. Sort of why I had to rush off last time as well." He explained, purposefully avoiding mention of names. As understanding as Katie was about the Malfoy trial situation, he knew she wouldn't be quite so understanding if the boy who had once almost killed her suddenly appeared. The Slytherin had a penchant for making enemies everywhere he went.

Katie seemed to accept the explanation, as she just nodded. She was still sprawled on the bed, and Harry for the first time took in her naked form with appreciation – having not really had the opportunity earlier.

"See something you like?" She said, noticing his wandering eyes.

"Very much." He grinned, suddenly aware of his own nakedness and trying not to appear too self-aware of it.

"Well, I don't know what your plans are for the rest of the afternoon, but I thought perhaps I could teach you a few more… ah… tricks?"

Glancing at the blank parchment one last time, Harry knew there was only one appropriate answer to her question.

-HP-

It was nearly 5 o'clock by the time Malfoy's writing finally appeared on the parchment. He and Katie had spent the rest of the afternoon in bed, finishing off what they had started. With much less haste, Katie indeed taught him how to please her, and she in turn put her very talented hands to good use.

They were idly chatting on the bed when Harry heard rather than felt the parchment get hot with a soft sizzle. Reaching around, he picked it up off the bedside table and read the now familiar scrawl.

 _Finishing up in 15. Meet in the lobby. Don't acknowledge me._

"I take it that's your curfew kicking in." Katie said with an amused smile. He was grateful she made no attempt at reading the parchment.

"Something like that." He replied with a rueful smile. "Sorry."

"No worries. I learnt my lesson last time and organised dinner plans with someone else. Who knew the Boy Who Lived was so well protected?" She pondered aloud.

 _You have no idea._ Harry thought grimly to himself.

-HP-

He was just settling the account for the room – having bid farewell to Katie with what he hoped was a soul wrenching kiss – when Malfoy strolled out of the lifts. He stopped at the reception desk next to Harry, wordlessly watching as he handed over his 40 galleons and 11 silver sickles for the room and drinks. He had a smirk on his face that Harry really, really wanted to punch away.

"Not a word Malfoy." Harry hissed quietly, as he hurried towards the exit and away from the blonde. Despite glamours, they had agreed it was best to avoid being seen together in case they were recognised. The Kingsley experience had clearly taught him his glamours failed spectacularly if he bumped into someone he knew.

Miraculously, the blonde stayed silent for most of the trip home, and even as they were parking the bike. It wasn't until they approached the steps to Grimmauld that he addressed Harry at all.

"So, if Mother asks, we went to the Soggy Broom again – got it?" It was Harry's turn to grin.

"Ah, so mummy dearest doesn't know about your booty calling then does she? Still think her little angel is sweet and innocent?"

"Shut it Potter. You know nothing about Pureblood traditions. It's less for my sake than Pansy's – she's expected to be pure or whatever for marriage so just keep today to yourself."

"Who'd I tell anyway?" Harry asked, realising a second too late what a dumb comment it was.

"Are you daft Potter? I know you're supposed to be spying on us – just keep what happened today out of your little chat with Shacklebolt and whoever else is on his leash."

"Look Malfoy…" Harry began, aware they'd never really broached the awkward topic since that day in the kitchen.

"Spare me Potter. Mother thinks you're being the bigger man by being upfront with us. I still think you're a spineless weasel who does as he's told."

"Spineless little weasel that saved your sorry arse."

"What do you WANT Potter?" Malfoy rounded on him at the top of the stairs, an unexpected fury erupting out of him that took the other boy by surprise. "What could you possibly gain from this little charity exercise? You're clearly not earning popularity points with us, so why bother?"

"I… I…" Harry struggled to articulate an answer to the other boy's question. He wasn't sure himself, if he was honest. "I guess… it's the right thing to do? I felt like it? I don't know. Haven't you ever just gone with your gut?"

"Gone with your gut?" The blonde nearly choked on disgust at the expression. "Who does that? No wonder people drop dead around you Potter." Harry bit back a snarl at the obvious dig. "You really are a complete moron. Some of us have standards, traditions – families to uphold. I can't just bumble around doing whatever it is you do."

"Look Malfoy. I'm helping you out, so just shut up and take it." Harry said wearily, refusing to take the bait. "I'm not going to tell anyone about today – heaven knows I'd have to explain why I was there which would lead to awkward questions. Thanks for giving me a heads up by the way." He added, attempting to change the topic. It worked like a charm, as the other boy smirked in response.

"I take it Katie understood the sub-context behind a date at a fancy hotel much better than you did then." He drawled.

"You're a git Malfoy. Fortunately I managed to juggle my way out of an otherwise awkward situation quite smoothly, with no help from you."

"You booked yourself a room and finally got laid. Congratulations Potter. Did she have to help you find your dick too?" Harry turned towards the door to hide his flush of embarrassment, placing his hand on the doorknob to open up the house. It was bewitched to only open under his touch.

"Fuck you Malfoy. And what do you mean finally?"

"Judging how long it took you to kiss that poor girl last week it's the only viable explanation. You're a virgin – or were at least. Hopefully this will make you less uptight." Malfoy responded with a shameless smirk as he followed Harry into the foyer of Grimmauld Place. Blissfully they were home well before sunset, and there was no sign of Narcissa.

"Think whatever you like Malfoy." Harry huffed, annoyed he'd been so transparent. "And I'm not uptight! I can be… fun." He added lamely.

"I sincerely doubt that." The other boy drawled, already halfway up the stairs to his room.

For some reason, the idea of being boring really bothered Harry more than anything else the Slytherin had said. Was it possible, with Voldemort gone and his adventures at an end, that he'd somehow become… dull?

-HP-

The two weeks before they were due back at Hogwarts went by fairly quickly, as Harry settled into something of a routine with his untoward house guests.

Narcissa, true to her word, did a spectacular job of keeping the house in order. The pantry for the first time was stocked to the brim, and the rooms were brightening each day as she added her own personal touches. Every so often she'd ask Harry's permission to make a particularly significant change, but he never said no. She had well and truly proven herself to have exquisite taste.

She'd also begun work on his finances. While Narcissa had no direct authority to withdraw from his accounts, she was able to manage them under his name. Every so often, to set up new accounts or merge other ones, his signature was required, which he happily gave. He briefly wondered if trusting her so much was a good idea, but he figured short of investing in something unscrupulous there wasn't much evil she could feasibly do.

The strangest routine by far was the one he'd established with Draco. They had both chosen Sirius's old study as their favourite place in the house, and were both too stubborn to relocate in light of the others presence. So it was that they'd taken to spending evenings reading in the study, steadfastly ignoring each other. Some nights Narcissa joined them too, and the three read in amicable if awkward silence.

Most days, Harry would return to the Ministry to continue the trials, which had recommenced after the short break. They were now so far down the list of suspected Death Eaters that the wizards and witches on trial were somewhat comical. Weak men who'd made bad choices during the height of the war – like distribute "Muggleborns Wanted" posters - but had never been affiliated with Voldemort and his band of sycophants.

Arthur continued to escort him to and from the trials. It took several days before the Weasley Patriarch broached the subject of his new house guests, but Harry knew it was coming.

"So Harry." He asked as they strolled towards the apparition point one morning. "Kingsley's told me about your little arrangement with the Malfoys. How.. er… is everything okay?"

"It's fine Arthur. Narcissa and her son are staying with me for a while, until they get back on their feet." Harry replied, secretly enjoying the other man's obvious discomfort.

"Yes, yes of course. Quite admirable really. But you will... you are keeping an eye on them right? I'd hate for them to take advantage of your generosity and..."

"You mean am I spying on them like Kingsley asked me to?" Harry asked bluntly and somewhat rudely, not halting his stride.

"Well, it's your welfare we're most concerned about. You must understand, we're only looking out for your best interests…" Harry winced at Arthur's use of the proverbial "we".

 _You're not paranoid if they are out to get you._ He thought savagely.

"Is that why you refrained from telling me about the New Order you're now part of? To keep me safe?"

"Well, we just thought…" Harry winced again, but fortunately they had reached the apparition point. Arthur, sensing his discomfort, changed tact. "Look Harry, I'm sorry. I know how you feel about being out of the loop. Once you're out of a school and in the Ministry things will be different, but for now the less you know the better. Focus on your studies, be a teenager. Have fun."

Despite the slightly condescending tone, Harry let it drop. Perhaps he _was_ meddling in things best left to the Ministry.

But then, his gut told him something was off – and despite what the git had said – he couldn't help but listen to it.


End file.
